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“You know why that is?” he taunts, willing me to say it.
But I won’t.
Can’t.
There’s no way.
“C’mon, Daire, you’re a smart girl—think! Who do you know personally whose soul would shine far brighter than anyone else’s? Who do you know who’s so full of magick, and goodness, and purity, and light—their soul would radiate in precisely this way?”
I move toward him, fingers shaking so badly the bat trembles against them.
“I’m afraid your dear Paloma is not long for this world. Django’s death came with a price, and by the time you came around, it was already too late. I’ve been harvesting little bits all year, and now I have the whole thing. But then, you already knew that, didn’t you? You’ve been watching her fade since the moment you arrived. It’s too late to save her—so you may as well make your peace and take this moment to join me. Because I promise you, Daire, if you choose to fight me, I’ll have no choice but to steal your soul too.”
He dips his fingers into the container, then turns toward his undead family, presenting Paloma’s bright and shining soul on a single splayed hand he raises before them. The sight of it causing them to lurch forward, teeth gnashing, bodies lunging, unable to contain their hunger—themselves. Worked into an absolute slobbering frenzy, when Cade glances over his shoulder, wanting to make sure that I see it.
My feet spread wide, I grip the bat tighter. Knowing I have one second to act. One second to stop him.
There are no do-overs here.
“Still time to join me,” he says, sparks shooting from eyeholes surrounded by bright yellow marigolds.
I rush toward him, bat held high, Paloma’s words swirling through my mind:
Do not worry for me. Focus on them—you must stop El Coyote, no matter the cost. I haven’t taught you everything—but I’ve taught you well—and now you must let me go, nieta. You cannot, must not, save me—do you understand?
She wants me to crush it.
She knew it would come to this and she wants me to do whatever it takes to stop him. Willing to sacrifice her own eternity in order to spare mankind the horror of the Richters invading the Lowerworld again.
It’s what a Seeker does.
He smiles when he sees me—eyes flaming, teeth gleaming—as I take a deep breath and swing with all of my strength. My gaze never once leaving the orb as I bring the bat down as hard as I can—begging Paloma to forgive me—good-byes were so much easier before I allowed myself to care.
The bat crashes down hard, causing shards of glass to scatter, fly about the room, as it bounces off the altar, sending the table, the candles, the candy, the photos, the carafe with the strange red substance crashing to the ground—as I stare at Cade, breathless and horrified, both of us knowing I just couldn’t do it.
His eyes meeting mine when he hurls the gleaming white orb—my abuela’s soul—to the crowd of undead Richters. Shouting in triumph as the largest of the group snatches it from the air and swallows it whole.
forty-nine
Cade’s face is exultant, victorious—having misread the whole thing, he thinks I’ve gone crazy, decided to join him.
The moment holding, growing, until I rid myself of the mask, gaze down at my feet, and see the rug blazing beneath me. The corners of those nameless pictures scorching and curling—recognizing first one face, then another, and suddenly realizing they’re not what I thought.
They’re not pictures of long-dead Richters—they’re pictures of those whose souls have been stolen for Cade’s horrible cause.
He stands before me, hand reaching toward mine as white hot flames lick at his shoes and dance up his sides. The enormity of what I’ve just done looming before me, as I bolt toward the army of undead Richters, chasing the beast that ate my grandmother’s soul. Noting the way it allows him to grow and transform as a wondrous halo of light seeps out all around him—having no idea if it’s too late to save her, but knowing I have to try, have to stop them from invading
the Lowerworld, or the whole world will suffer.
My legs spin beneath me, carrying me faster than I ever thought possible. My flight spurred by Cade’s haunting trail of laughter, along with his horrible coyote nipping close at my heels.
I sprint through a long series of rooms—heart pumping too hard, lungs about to burst from my chest. Only a handful of steps yawning between me and them, when they burst through the wall that leads to the desert, and Coyote leaps forward and sinks his fangs into my jeans.
I whirl on him, stare into his glowing red eyes, and give him a swift, hard kick in the snout before he can pounce again. The move stunning him just long enough to allow me to dive through the wall before it snaps shut.
Sand.
I forgot about the sand.
