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

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “I’m fine,” she said, but the steely glint in her eyes suggested otherwise.

  I frowned. “Yeah, well…I’m sorry, Mars.” The cold, hard reality was that I was responsible for her getting caught and tortured in the first place, and knowing that made me feel like a piece of shit. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Seriously, Kat,” Mari said, cutting me off. “Just drop it. It happened. It’s over. And I’m fine.” She gave me a pointed look, raising her eyebrows. “Alright?”

  After a long, tense moment, I gave in. “Alright,” I said, nodding to the door. “Let’s go find the others.”

  Mari walked out of the cell like she owned the place, pausing only to smash the heel of her boot into Carson’s face. She spat on him, then left the cell, a place that had been a source of unimaginable pain for her for hours, without looking back at all.

  This was why I’d been so glad to have Mari by my side in Aaru. Underneath the lab coats and all of that stylish business attire, she was still the baddest bitch around—well, the baddest bitch besides me.

  I paused by Carson’s body on my way out, but not to beat him further. I was over it. Over him.

  I crouched down and tugged his key ring off his belt, adding it to my collection. Carson’s had way more keys than Jared’s—it might prove useful. I tucked the upgrade into my coat pocket as I stood, then walked out of the cell and slammed the door. The metallic clang reverberated throughout the dungeon, possibly the most satisfying sound I’d ever heard.

  Carson was locked in a cell in his own dungeon, deep beneath his own stupid fortress, not a key to the cell in sight.

  And it felt fan-fucking-tastic.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Finding Dom and the others wasn’t so hard. Carson had locked them up in another wing of the dungeon, and we took out their guards and sprang them all quickly and easily enough with our two stolen sets of keys. Thankfully, they were all relatively unharmed.

  “Do you know where to go from here?” I asked Dom as Mari worked on the final lock, Anapa waiting patiently on the other side of the cell door. Back in his cottage, Dom had told us that the way to access the cave was through the dungeon, so it had to be close.

  “I believe so,” Dom said. “This fortress is a Frankenstein of different castles in Europe, but this dungeon comes straight out of the Fortress of Guaita.” He gave the dungeon a quick scan. “I was held there once. There was a hot spring in a cave deep underground beneath the castle, and the lord at the time believed the waters to hold magical properties.”

  Dom ended his scan of our surroundings looking deeper into the dungeon where there was no light at all. “Every day, he and his wife would pass my cell on their way to the enchanted pools. She was unable to carry a child to term, you see, and a ‘sorcerer’ claimed the waters would cure her apparent infertility.” Dom nodded his head to the side and frowned. “In reality, soaking in the hot water probably hurt more than it helped . . .”

  “Huh,” I said, shifting my focus from his face to the unrelenting darkness deeper in the dungeon. “So, it’s that way?”

  “Yes.” Dom glanced at Anapa, who was just stepping out of his cell. “Come, we have wasted enough time here.”

  I felt like his words were a subtle jab aimed at me, but I didn’t comment on it. The last thing we needed to do right now was start fighting about whose fault it was that we’d been imprisoned in the first place.

  Don’t get me wrong—I was fully aware that the blame belonged mostly to me, but Dom had purposely withheld the fact that Carson wasn’t just here but was the dickwad tyrant in charge of the fortress. And Dom knew me better than anyone. He should’ve known how I would react the moment I heard Carson’s voice . . . should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to resist my first—and probably only—chance at avenging my mom’s death, especially not when presented with it so unexpectedly.

  I wouldn’t apologize for chasing my vengeance. Not to him. Not to anyone. Maybe that made me a shitty person—it definitely made me a shitty hero—but the guilt twisting around in my gut was making me defensive and, at the moment, I really didn’t care.

  Mood souring, I followed Dom deeper into the shadows of the dungeon. A torch appeared in his hand, illuminating the way ahead, and the shadows receded.

  The man-made stone walls soon gave way to carved bedrock, and I could just make out an ancient-looking door at the far end of the aisle. The door appeared to be made of thick boards of charred wood, but the closer we drew, the more I thought the wood’s dark appearance was just a patina caused by age—or rather, the mimicry of age. There was a large iron ring at the center of the door and what appeared to be a keyhole directly beneath it.

  Dom stepped aside when he reached the door and waved me forward. “If you don’t mind, Kat . . .”

  It took my mind a moment to puzzle out his meaning. But then he glanced at the antique iron lock. Oh, right—the keys. I had Carson’s keys.

  I reached into my pocket, pulling out the key ring and singling out the largest, oldest-looking key available. Stepping forward, I extended my hand and fit the key into the lock. I turned the key, and the lock stuck at first, but it soon gave way with a series of clicks and clangs that reminded me of the sounds the vault door to Mari’s bunker made whenever it was unlocked. I withdrew the key and, holding my breath, pushed the door open. I had no idea what to expect on the other side.

  The hinges creaked, and the whole door groaned, resisting movement. It was heavier than I’d expected, and I had to throw some of my body weight in to get it open all the way, but I managed eventually.

  On the other side of the door, a long, uneven stairway had been carved into the bedrock, entirely open on one side. My eyes widened when I saw the cavern that lay beyond the foot of the stairs.

  “I’ve been here before,” I said, voice little more than a whisper.

  A cozy campfire burned in the center of the cavern, casting a warm, golden glow on the stone walls. Where the cave mouth had once been, there was a barrier of boulders. Off to the left of the fire, a man lay on a bed of furs. He wore an intricate leather loincloth and was stretched out on his back, his hands resting on his bare belly. Like all Nejerets, he looked to be in the prime of his youth, mid to late twenties at the oldest. His long, tawny hair spilled across the dark brown fur under his head.

  I glanced at Dom. “This is where he died,” I said, gaze shifting to Anapa. He’d been there with me. He’d been by my side when I’d watched the First take his last breath.

  Anapa nodded, acknowledging our shared experience.

  I held his gaze for a moment, then turned and started my slow descent down the steep stairs, careful to avoid the sharp drop-off on the right. When I reached the bottom, I made a slow circuit around the cavern, finally coming to stand by the First’s bed of furs as I waited for the others to join me.

  “Any thoughts?” I asked once we were all gathered around the First, staring down at his sleeping form.

  Mari broke away, heading for the fire. She held out her hands, warming her fingers. “We could try burning him,” she suggested. “Shock him awake . . .” Clearly, she still had torture on the brain. Understandable, but maybe not the best move—at least, not the best first move.

  I cleared my throat. “Why don’t we start with something a little less aggressive,” I said. “We want him to wake up and want to help us . . . not want to kill us.”

  Mari shrugged, her back to me, attention claimed by the flames. All that torture had changed something within her—it had been a lot of torture. I just hoped it hadn’t broken her. I hadn’t thought so at the time, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  “Hey!” Susie said, drawing my attention as she crouched down beside the bed of furs and leaned over the First’s head. She poked his shoulder. “Wake up.” She poked him a few more times. “Wake. Up.” She clapped her hands over his face. “Come on, dude. Wake up!”

  Syris crouched and grabbed his sister’s wrist, stopping her clapping. When she looked at
him, affronted, he said, “It’s not working, Suse . . . give it a rest.”

  Susie yanked her wrist free from her brother’s grasp and crossed her arms over her chest, huffing delicately. “Fine,” she said, giving him a very pointed look. “You try something.”

  Syris held his sister’s stare for a few seconds, then shifted his attention back to the First. He placed his knees on the edge of the furs and reached out, slipping his hands under the First’s broad shoulders. He lifted the sleeping man’s upper body off the bed, slowly shuffling forward as he worked the First into a sitting position.

  But sitting up didn’t seem to do a damn thing. The First slumped forward, just as limp as ever—no question as to his slumbering state.

  Syris lowered him back down so he was once again lying on the furs.

  Every idea that popped into my head connected back to Mari’s shock-him-awake plan. I considered slapping him, pinching him, pouring ice water on him, and blocking his airways. I even considered drawing Mercy and sliding her blade along his skin. Surely the sting of razor-sharp At cutting into his flesh would cause some sort of a reaction.

  But we needed his help—his willing help. We didn’t need a pissed off guy leading us around and around Aaru in circles until Nik died of bonding withdrawals simply out of spite. There had to be a way.

  I glanced at Dom, one of his favorite phrases whispering through my mind: There’s always a way. That mantra had held true in the Netjer universe, even when I’d been trapped in the Mother of All’s prison, hope a distant memory. And it would hold true here. It had to.

  “Too bad we don’t have a prince,” Mari said. “Or a princess, I guess . . .”

  I glanced over my shoulder, eyebrows rising. Mari was still staring into the fire.

  “True love’s kiss,” she added lazily. “Always works in the stories.”

  I rolled my eyes. She was definitely a little loopy from all the torture.

  Suddenly, there was a scuffling sound coming from the top of the stairs.

  I glanced up at the ancient door.

  It was still open, and Carson was standing in the opening. He looked a little worse for wear, but he was there. One of his lackeys must have stumbled upon him locked up in the dungeon. He’d gotten out of the cell way faster than I’d hoped.

  He stumbled down the first few steps, and a couple guardsmen passed through the doorway after him. My heart sank as more followed.

  “Damn it!” I hissed. I drew Mercy, but based on the endless stream of guards pouring in through the doorway behind Carson, the odds weren’t in our favor. Even with our increased numbers, there weren’t nearly enough of us. We so didn’t have time for this.

  When the screams started, I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. It was like the guardsmen in the rear, those still in the dungeon, were under attack.

  But then the mist filled the doorway, and I understood. For some unknown reason, the Beast had come to the rescue once again. And for the first time ever, I was happy to see the ominous mist.

  Carson hadn’t noticed it yet. He was too focused on his cornered prey. On us. He had no idea that a bigger, badder predator was hunting him.

  But my companions had noticed the Beast, and they were plenty afraid.

  “Don’t worry,” I told them, smile grim. “I think it’s here to help.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Beast snatched up Carson’s guardsmen one by one, pulling them into the depths of the mist. Carson remained oblivious that his small army was being decimated behind him. He was too focused on us. On me.

  Until the beast spat out one of the guards, launching him out of the mist. The guy flew past Carson, his hair-raising shouts forcing Carson’s focus off of us and onto the thing slowly descending upon him.

  About ten steps from the bottom of the stairs, Carson turned around ever so slowly, like he was afraid of what he would find behind him. Well, he was right to be afraid.

  Having seen the Beast, he froze, his back to us and his army little more than a few stragglers waiting to be overrun. He spun around suddenly and fled the rest of the way down the stairs, taking the remaining steps in twos and threes. He raced past us and to the darkest recesses of the cave, as far as he could possibly get from the Beast, and flattened his entire body against the cave wall.

  I sneered, feeling no shame for enjoying his display of extreme fear. I remembered the way the Beast had shown me a replay of that awful moment when Carson killed my mom, and I wondered, just for a moment, if that had been its way of communicating. Had it been trying to tell me that it knew me? That it understood me? Or, as impossible as it seemed, had the Beast been trying to warn me that Carson was here in the fortress?

  But as the mist oozed past us, the Beast ignoring us in favor of chasing after Carson, that train of thought veered off track, morphing into an idea. The Beast could take the shape of a person—I’d seen it do it several times already, with several different people. I wondered if it could take any form it liked. If so, then Mari may have been onto something with the whole “true love’s kiss” idea.

  My feet were moving before I’d fully thought through my plan. I started toward the Beast.

  Dom grabbed my arm, stopping me short.

  I turned partway and met his eyes. “I have an idea. Just trust me,” I said and waited for his reticent nod.

  His fingers loosened, releasing me, and I rushed toward Carson’s corner of the cave, heading off the Beast. I skidded to a halt in front of the mist, hands upraised. “Hold on,” I said, spreading my fingers wider apart. “Just, hold on for a sec.”

  I licked my lips and took a step closer to the mist. I could just make out the Beast’s tentacles moving within the shimmering depths, whipping about at first, but stilling as the Beast turned its focus from Carson to me.

  “I need your help,” I said, shooting a quick glance back at my watching companions. “We need your help.”

  There was a long moment where nothing happened, but then a human shape formed deep within the mist. As it drew closer to the edge, its features became more distinct. After only a few seconds, it emerged from the mist, and I was suddenly standing face-to-face with my mom. Or rather, with the Beast.

  “Thank you.” I cleared my throat and lowered my hands. “Do you know of Isfet?” I asked it.

  My mom—the Beast—blinked, and then it bowed its head in a prolonged nod.

  “Great,” I said, relief flooding me as my lips spread into a slow smile. This could work. I inhaled deeply, holding the breath in for a moment before asking, “Would you be able to take on Isfet’s shape—like you’re doing right now, looking like my mom?”

  The Beast tilted its head to the side, its expression turning strangely curious.

  “You see, we need to wake the First.” I pointed to the bed of furs. “The guy over there . . . the one who’s sleeping.”

  The Beast glanced at the First, then returned its attention to me, its head tilting to the other side.

  “And, um, I think that if he believes Isfet is here, he’ll wake up,” I explained. Or, at least, I hoped he would.

  The Beast continued to stare at me, no change to its placid expression.

  Well, there was nothing to do now but to keep on rambling, hoping to get through. “And we need to wake him because, well, the fate of the universe is kind of at stake,” I said. “Everyone and everything . . .” I gestured to the Beast. “You, even—it’s all in danger.”

  The Beast’s brow furrowed. Slowly, it extended its hand—my mom’s hand—holding it out toward me like it wanted me to take it.

  I started to reach for the proffered hand but hesitated. I knew this was all an illusion. It wasn’t really my mom standing there, but a writhing, viny mass masked in my mom’s appearance. I wouldn’t be taking her hand, but grasping the Beast’s tentacles. Voluntarily. The thought sent a shiver creeping up my spine.

  But it had to be done. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped closer to the Beast, reaching
out to grasp its hand.

  The moment I made contact with the Beast, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. My whole body—my whole soul—stiffened as an electric current flowed into me from the Beast. It hurt like hell, but that was kind of par for the course at this point. But the physical pain wasn’t the worst of it; I could feel the Beast shuffling around in my mind, rummaging through my thoughts and memories.

  On pure instinct, I fought the mental invasion. But once the initial shock faded, I realized that the connection between us went both ways. The Beast was in my mind, and I was in the Beast’s. I could feel its intentions . . . sense its purpose.

  It was trying to understand. It knew what I wanted it to do—take on Isfet’s appearance to wake the First—but it needed to know why I wanted it to wake the First. Why I wanted to find the grove. Why I was searching for Isfet. It needed to understand my intentions.

  With that realization, I relaxed, letting the Beast in. Letting it know me. Letting it understand that I wasn’t like Carson and that waking the First wasn’t about me trying to escape from Aaru. It wasn’t about me at all. It was much, much bigger than that.

  And as the Beast focused all of its attention on sifting through my mind, it opened itself fully to me. In a rush of awareness, I knew the Beast.

  I knew that it wasn’t a Beast at all. It wasn’t a creature or a thing or a monster. Rather, it was Iusaset, the great tree growing in Isfet’s grove, and the tentacles weren’t tentacles at all—they were the great tree’s roots, which wove all throughout Aaru—and its sole purpose was to protect Isfet. It had been protecting Isfet since she was first imprisoned in Aaru. It had watched over her when the First arrived, ensuring he meant her no harm. It had guarded her from the Nejerets who arrived after the First—Nejerets who thought they could use Isfet to escape from Aaru, just as Carson wanted to use her. It had driven them away from the grove, and in the process, it had unintentionally driven the First away as well.