Ignoring the fiery pain seizing my chest, I raise my leg high, center my foot, and brutally slam it into Cade’s knee. And while it doesn’t take him down like I hoped, it’s enough for him to loosen his grip so I can break free.
I stagger toward my bag, coughing and wheezing as I gulp down great mouthfuls of air. Having just grabbed hold of the strap when Cade app
ears beside me and circles my arm in a viselike grip.
“You’re done, Seeker.” He spins me until I’m staring into his unfathomable eyes.
Just like looking into Dace’s eyes the last time I saw him.
Which is why I have to survive. I have to reach Dace, restore his soul, and reverse whatever horrible thing he did to make himself resemble his brother.
“That’s what you said last time, and look, I’m still here,” I croak, my voice hoarse, damaged, still I manage to jerk free and put a few more steps between us. Though it’s not until I’m standing triumphantly before him with my hands curled into fists, when I realize he freed me too easily.
For Cade, this is no more than a game.
This is how he enjoys himself. This is why he was gripping the armrests, trying to hold on for whatever treat he’s planned next.
I didn’t break free.
I’m exactly where he wants me.
No sooner have I realized the truth, when he launches his body hard into mine. The impact of his weight knocking me to the ground so brutal, I’m amazed my head didn’t explode on contact. And before I have time to react, he’s waling on me.
He fights for real. Fights dirty. Fights to the death. His fists pounding into my flesh until it’s all I can do to deflect.
“You’re no good to me now, Seeker!” he shouts, his knuckles repeatedly driving into my skin. “The prophecy has begun. I am the darkness ascending. Whatever strength I drew from the love you shared with my brother, is no longer needed. I have risen. I have transformed. I have become what I was created to be. You and your kind are no match for me.”
He drones on and on. Ranting about his greatness, his power, his birthright to rule all. The tiresome diatribe eventually mutating into some ancient, tribal dialect I’ve heard him use before. And not long after that, his hands are back on my throat.
I buck wildly beneath him. Thrashing, kicking, biting, hair pulling, scratching at his hands, trying to loosen their grip, but it’s no use. Whatever I do barely penetrates.
It’s true what he said. He has transcended. Bearing the strength in human form that was once reserved for his demon form.
And it’s not long before my limbs tire, growing useless and weak, as my sight begins to dim from the edges in. Shrinking my vision to one point of light.
One point of light that dances, leaps, wiggles, and twists.
One point of light emanating from the lit torch on the wall nearest me.
“Use your light, nieta. Learn to trust it. It’s the most reliable tool that you have,” Paloma said to me. And while it’s not technically my light I see flickering before me, for the moment, it’s all that I’ve got.
I reach for the buckskin pouch at my neck and fold my fingers around it.
“Your dying breath and you waste it on that?” Cade sneers. “You deserve to die, Seeker. Haven’t you figured it out by now? It’s superstitious nonsense! If it worked, then why has your life been reduced to this? Why did your dad croak at sixteen? Why is your entire family, with the exception of Paloma, who barely counts she’s so useless—why are all of them dead? Ever stop to think about that? You fell for the whole pack of lies, Santos. When the truth is, any magick worth its salt doesn’t live where you seek it. It’s not in the elements. It’s not in the earth. Magick, true magick, only thrives in the darkest of men—the worthy few. All the rest are mere fodder, existing to sustain us. Lazy, apathetic losers, content to live small meaningless lives, who willingly leave their souls at risk for people like me to control. Still, it’s nice of you to entertain me with your foolish beliefs—as if killing you wasn’t pleasure enough.”
He throws his head back and lets out a roar so loud, so primal, so Coyote-like, the surrounding walls tremble. And just when I’m sure he’s going to change into his demon form, he surprises me by staying the same. Only harder, fiercer—as though the two versions of him have merged into one.
His fingers lace tighter, as his thumbs press hard on my windpipe. “Funny how the harder I squeeze, the bigger your eyes grow, yet the less you can see.” He leans closer, his face looming directly above me. “Look at me, Santos!” he cries. “Look. At. Me! I want to be the last thing you see before you die. This time, just like the last time. I want you to remember the way I looked when I killed you for the second time!”
With my vision reduced to a pinprick, I continue to stare past his shoulder, focusing on the small beam of flame.
“Look at me! I command you to see me!” He screams, but I maintain my focus, allowing the Fire Song to stream through my brain.
At the whim of the wind
I can smolder or singe
Comforting as easily as I harm