THIRTY
DAIRE
The sand comes too soon. And what’s worse is there’s even more of it than the last time I was here.
Still, I try to stay positive. Try to assure myself that while it’s not quite what I was expecting, it might prove better this way. If nothing else, it ensures there’s no place for the Richters to hide.
I close my eyes, lift my arms to my sides, and indulge a moment of quiet, contented solitude. Knowing the elders are out there, working their magick and closing the exits, while my friends are on their way to provide backup in case I should need it.
Though I don’t plan to need it.
Aside from the sand, the whole thing is going according to plan.
Soon, very soon, I will avenge every last Seeker who was ever felled by a Richter.
El Coyote will be begging for mercy.
As the head of the clan, Leandro is first on my list, with Cade following closely behind.
The roar of feet pounding in the distance tells me they’re well on their way. The moment I’ve been waiting for about to come to fruition.
My heart thrums with anticipation.
I center my focus, and ready my blade.
Having waited so long for this moment, I can hardly believe that it’s here.
I wave my athame high over my head, signaling to my friends that all is well. It may not look like we planned but there is nothing to fear.
“Keep running!” I shout. “Make for the hill and wait for me there.”
On the lookout for Lita, Axel, Xotichl, and Auden, only to discover my friends aren’t there—it’s the crowd from the party instead.
A tsunami of masked people in formal attire cresting straight for me. Their tourmaline pendants and bracelets flashing and blinking as they plod through the sand as though driven by an outside force.
With only a few feet left spanning between us, the ground gives way, the sand collapses, and we’re sucked deep into the earth. Careening toward the Lowerworld where we crash in a heap of disjointed bodies.
I free myself from a tangle of limbs and scramble for my knife that came loose in the fall.
My fingertips are barely grazing the hilt when Leandro captures it with the heel of his boot, looms up before me, and says, “Thanks, Seeker. That went exactly as planned.”
THIRTY-ONE
DAIRE
Leandro glowers before me.
Kicks my athame well out of reach.
That one simple move signaling my plan is a fail—and yet, there’s no denying I’ve got him right where I want him. Now all I need is my knife.
I flatten my palm, splay my fingers to the side, and try to summon my athame. The familiar tingling sensation crawling over my flesh a sure sign it’s working, until Leandro hooks a mean right that lands squarely on my jaw.
My head snaps back, my feet fly up from under me, as my body spirals toward the dirt, and my mind reels with the absurdity of what I’m now facing: My boyfriend is a demon and his father just clocked me.
I roll onto my side, blinking past the constellation of stars swirling past, to see Leandro leading an army of demons, Richters, and anesthetized partygoers on a rampage through the very land I vowed to protect.
The Lowerworld is in chaos.