Soul Seekers03 - Mystic (30 page)

Maybe Dace isn’t up there of his own accord.

Maybe he really was coerced.

While I have no idea how he got there, I’m determined to stop this madness before it can escalate further.

I jostle against the bloodthirsty crowd, gagging on sickly puffs of ethanol that waft from their lips, seep from their pores, as I make my way to the front. Only to watch Dace willingly lower his head, allowing Suriel to drape the hissing, writhing rattler around his neck, as a hand clamps down hard on my arm, dragging me back into the belly of the masses.

“Almost time for me to shift.” Cade tightens his grip. His fingers leaving sharp imprints in my flesh, his fathomless, icy-blue eyes meeting mine. “And just as I planned, my timing is perfect. Seems you and Dace really are fated. Destined to die at the exact same time. Tragically romantic—all the way to the bitter end.” He uses his free hand to shove a cold sharp knife hard against my side, before I have a chance to reach for mine, leaving no doubt of his intention to use it.

I push against him in protest.

Jab my elbow smack into his gut as my foot finds his shin.

But Cade’s freakishly strong. He just laughs in my ear and holds me in place. “Watch,” he hisses, twisting the knife until it pierces the tight weave of my sweater, rips a hole in the tank top I wear underneath, and pricks at my flesh.

At the moment, the state of my flesh bears little consequence. With only the vaguest awareness of the shock of icy-cold metal piercing my skin, the warm trickle of blood that streams down my side, I continue my struggle against him in a desperate fight to reach Dace, as I gape in horror at the spectacle unfolding before me.

Dace.

Tied to a chair.

With a venomous snake draped over his neck.

“One strike and he’s history!” Cade’s voice buzzes with excitement. His words reverberate hard against my cheek. “It’s all over, Seeker.” He focuses hard on the snake with an intense, burning red gaze. Waiting for just the right moment to complete the shift, cleave his blade deep into me, and claim the ultimate Coyote victory.

If I had any clue what Dace was doing, or how he ended up there, I might have a better idea how to help. But while I don’t know a thing about reptiles, I do know that animals tend to strike when they feel hungry, threatened, or both.

Which means I need to rethink my earlier plan to ambush the stage. I can’t risk startling the snake when doing so could cause it to turn against Dace.

Left with no choice but to trust that Dace knows what he’s doing, I turn my focus to summoning my athame into my hand. While I’m committed to not killing Cade, if he goes too far, injuring him is not out of the question.

From somewhere within my back pocket, the blade begins to vibrate and move, as Suriel stares transfixed at Dace, and Cade’s hot, labored breath pelts hard against the back of my neck—the second sign (after the glowing red eyes) that the shift is at hand.

He adjusts his grip, digs the blade deeper into my flesh, as I steal a moment to close my eyes and call upon my collection of helpers and tools. Using every bit of magick I possess to ask for their help in moving the athame from my pocket to my hand.

The blade flips out of my pocket. Finds its way to my palm. As Cade curses under his breath, and Dace says, “I think he likes me.”

What?

My lids snap open, my athame all but forgotten, when I see Dace still on the stage, still tied to the chair, a good-natured smile lighting his face as the venomous rattler lovingly nuzzles his cheek.

“Does this mean I can keep him?” Dace lifts his gaze to meet Suriel’s, laughing when the snake creeps up to his head, coils itself on the crown, and hisses at Suriel when he tries to snatch it away.

“Did you see that?” Outraged, Suriel whirls on the crowd. His voice thick with indignation and fury, he shouts, “Did you see the way he looked at that snake? He has possessed it with his demon spirit—just as he will soon possess all of you. None of you are safe!” His eyes bulge, his crooked index finger stretches toward the sky. Only to have the mob respond by sending a half-full beer bottle soaring toward his head, this time grazing his ear.

But Suriel’s so far gone, so unhinged, he remains completely unaware of the wound—the jagged flag of flesh left bloody and dangling, dripping onto the frayed white collar of his shirt. He stoops toward the large basket he’s placed by his feet, dips a hand in, and faces the crowd with a feverish gaze, and an armful (seven if I can trust my hurried count) of venomous snakes.

“Still feeling brave?” He dangles the nest of snakes before Dace. “You’ll never survive this one, boy. You can’t get to them—they know who you are!”

Dace flinches. The move slight, nearly imperceptible, but I caught it. And from the way Cade laughs under his breath, he saw it too.

“Here comes the money shot!” he sings. Having regained his confidence, he inches the knife deeper into me. “I change, and the Seeker and my abomination of a brother say bye-bye forever.”

Cade’s eyes glow a deep burning red, as he watches Suriel toss the tangle of hissing, venomous snakes into Dace’s lap. And I know I have just a matter of seconds to use my weapon against him while I still can.

“Sure you want to do this?” I say, my eyes never once leaving Dace, as I tighten my grip on the hilt. “Sure you want all of these people to see you in demon face?”

“You kidding?” He laughs, the sound he makes somewhere between animal and human. “They’re so ripped they won’t know the difference. Besides, they’re about to get used to it. As soon as I rid the world of you, I plan to spend most of my time in my altered form. I’ll have no further need to blend in.” He pushes the knife just a little bit deeper, but still enough for me to let out a small squeal of pain. The sound as startling to me as it was to him. And I know that no matter what happens on stage, it’s time to fight back. It’s just a matter of time before Cade punctures something, does serious damage.

I pull a slow quiet breath, aware of his body shaking in anticipation of the change about to take place. But I can’t let him get there, can’t let him reach his demon state. The moment he transforms, I won’t stand a chance. None of us will.

Intending to wound just enough to delay him without causing any real harm, I lift the knife and sink it into his forearm. Using his moment of shock to jerk free of his grip and bolt for the stage.

By the time I reach the platform, Dace is sitting silent and rigid, dripping with snakes. As Suriel stands right beside him, lips parted in anticipation, eyes wide and glittering, waiting for the first one to strike.

I push against the platform, about to shout Dace’s name, when he turns to me with a strange silver gaze warning me to stay where I am. But I’m not sure I can do that. While I want to trust that he knows what he’s doing, I’ve yet to see any real evidence to prove that he does. For all I know, the first snake could’ve been a fluke. And, from the deep, guttural roar coming from the crowd, his brother is in the midst of transforming.

I step onto the stage, ready to deal with Suriel on my own terms, when a lone voice from the crowd rises above all the rest, urging them to join in.

“They’re fake! You’re a fake!” they all shout in unison, as though singing the chorus to the latest hit song. “You’ve removed their venom glands!”

And that’s when I notice what Dace was urging me to see.

Just like the rattler before, instead of striking, instead of sinking their venomous fangs into his flesh, these seven deadly snakes choose to slither lovingly over Dace’s shoulders and neck. Sidling up to his face, where they fondly flick their forked tongues at his cheek.

“Looks like I win,” Dace says, gazing upon an outraged Suriel. “So what do you say we end this charade, so we can all go inside and celebrate the New Year in peace.”

The crowd is enraged. Furious at Suriel for wasting their time, it’s not long before a hail of beer bottles soar toward his head, along with a fresh slew of insults, deeming him a fake, bogus, fraud, disassembling as quickly as they came.

But Suriel won’t go down easily. Having lost none of his fire, despite losing his audience, he reaches for the dagger and advances on Dace as I leap onto the stage, wielding my athame.

“Daire, I got this,” Dace says, his voice barely a whisper, though loud enough for me to hear. Still, I can’t help but look skeptical. He’s swarming with seven varieties of the world’s most venomous snakes, who despite their friendly appearance, can turn on him just as easily. “Trust me,” he says, through tightly clenched teeth. “I know what I’m doing.”

Taking him at his word, I lower my athame. Remaining on high alert as Suriel charges toward Dace.

Enraged at his snakes for turning against him, enraged at losing his crowd, he’s immune to his daughter’s desperate call, begging him to halt.

“Daddy—stop! I can do this!” she cries, her voice too close for my comfort. While Suriel may be able to ignore her, I can’t.

I whirl toward the empty space where the crowd once stood and find Phyre with Cade right beside her.

“The righteous will ascend—the Last Days are here!” Suriel looms before Dace, dagger at the ready.

Dace breaks free of his binding with a surprising lack of effort, and in a steady voice says, “It might be your last day—but it’s not mine.” With a curt nod of his head, all seven snakes fling themselves off Dace and land hard at Suriel’s neck.

Phyre screams.

Cade looks on with burning red eyes.

Suriel drops to his knees, face turned skyward, convinced he’ll prevail. Until all seven snakes sink their fangs into his flesh at the exact same moment, as though they’d struck a previous agreement. Leaving Suriel gasping and railing against the utter betrayal they’ve wrought upon him.

With a bloodcurdling shriek, he crumples into an agonized heap as the snakes continue to attack. Seven sets of fangs repeatedly biting into his skin, depositing lethal doses of poison into his body until they tire of the game and slither away. While Dace looks on with wide silver eyes. His entire body trembling, shaking, as though he’s caught in the grip of something extraordinarily powerful and completely unknowable.

Phyre leaps onto the stage. Wailing with grief, she flings her blood-spattered form to cover her father’s.

Blood-spattered?

Whose blood?

Despite her deep state of grieving, she appears physically fine.

And that’s when I see the blood-soaked dagger she grips in her fingers.

That’s when Cade’s voice awakens me with his screams.

“What the hell have you done to me, Seeker? I will
kill
you for this!” He lumbers toward the stage, his entire left side drenched in red.

“Change!” I shout, racing toward him. Horrified to see his eyes wild and blazing, but otherwise looking very much the same. “Change—
now
!” I scream, as though I could actually command such a thing. Unable to comprehend the scene unfolding before me, when Cade shakes his head, falls to his knees. For some reason he can’t make the shift.

“Whatever you’ve done, take it back!” His voice is fading, along with his life force. But the truth is, I haven’t done anything. If I ever needed to see his demon self, it’s right now.

I whirl toward Dace, afraid of what I might find—only to see him still caught in that strange, hypnotic, silver-eyed state.

Strangely still. Strangely unharmed. Looking as though he’s on the verge of transforming into something I can’t even begin to imagine.

I turn my focus to Phyre and race toward her. Determined to wrestle the dagger away, unwilling to take the chance that she’ll use it again.

She lets it go easily.

Too easily.

Freeing up her hand to reach into her father’s suit pocket, and retrieve the detonator he’d stashed there.

A single glimpse of that small, electronic device is enough to make all of the pieces fall into place.

The explosives Dace told me he saw in her father’s shed are now stashed inside the Rabbit Hole.

I whirl on Dace, desperate to awaken him from his strange, hypnotic state. “The club!” I shout. “The club’s going to blow! You
have
to warn everyone to evacuate!”

Dace shakes his head, looks at me with wide glittering eyes making a slow return to their usual icy-blue. Seeing the detonator in Phyre’s hand, his blood-soaked brother falling against the stage, gasping for breath, he turns on his heel and races for the Rabbit Hole. While I lunge toward Phyre and tackle her to the ground. Effectively pinning her down, only to realize too late that the button is blinking.

She’s already pressed it.

Already started her own New Year’s Eve countdown.

“You should’ve listened to me while you had the chance,” she says. Her neck visibly bruised from Cade’s hand. The absurd message on her T-shirt illuminated by the haphazard row of candles that continue to flicker around us.

Her words punctuated from the countdown coming from inside the club.

Ten!

You can hear the swell of excitement from here.

Nine!

Phyre looks at me, her eyes a mess of mascara and tears, making her look like the villain of some tragic cartoon. “The last days are here.” She shrugs as though she’s not the least bit responsible for what she’s just done. Putting hundreds—possibly thousands of lives in ultimate danger, as behind us, the crowd counts down from eight to seven. “Better make your peace now. There’s no more avoiding it. No time for forgiveness.”

Six!

I punch her hard in the jaw. Slamming her cheek deep into the ground, more out of frustration than anything else. A move I instantly regret the second I see the way she grins in response.

Five!

I push off her, longing to rush inside, help Dace clear the place, but I can’t afford to leave her with Cade. Can’t afford to let her finish him off. Now that Dace is back to being himself, I can’t be sure he’ll survive it.