The Spirit Seducer (The Echo Series Book 1) (21 page)

Good, I thought. So good.

“What do you want?” Coyote asked. Desperation laced his words. A last minute plea bargain he had to know I wouldn’t accept. “I’ll see you have it, darling. We don’t have to be enemies.”

“When this started? I wanted my mom back. Now I want Layla and a chance to fix the mess you’ve made.”

Breaking the tablet was going to have long-ranging consequences—some of which I couldn’t yet fathom.

I flapped my arms and legs, trying to keep my face above the water line.

I breathed deeply as the power and force of the water swirled around me, rejuvenating me.

Coyote reached forward, dragging me into the vortex.

No. I wasn’t going to die. I was Water. As long as I worked with it, I was safe here.

I let the water push me upward, cradling me. I took a deep breath of fresh air. The storm was gone. Stars twinkled bright in the deep pitch of the sky.

I pulled the ground water closer, filling the pit so the water topped Coyote’s shoulders. He struggled, each turn of the whirlpool pulling him farther down.

“Sotuk planned to kill the world rather than try and fix its people,” he gasped. “That is your legacy. No one will follow you. No one will trust you. I can help you. I can ease your way with the other gods.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. Except—what he said made sense. My leg and wrist pulsed with pain, each one burrowing deeper into my consciousness, trying to drag me under their weight.

I shook my head. Coyote always tried to outsmart his opponent. He didn’t understand.

“You can’t rule—it was never your right. Sotuk told you that.”

The water swirled faster, over his shoulders.

“I’m a god,” he grunted. “It’s more my right than yours.”

I struggled against the fatigue. I tipped my head back, struggling to keep the water from my nose. Still more rain pounded down.

I was losing control.

Zeke.

Where are you?

I sent up a brief thank you as relief swept through me.

Sipapu,
under Coyote. Now
.

Do my best
.

Something shifted around us, like an earthquake. Or maybe it was simply the rising water level. I was so tired. I struggled, trying to open my mind to my power.

The water was up to Coyote’s jaw. The whirlpool held him in place. Cursing, he shoved against the wall of water separating us.

Coyote grew taller, fighting the water level that had just been up to his chin. Now it reached his chest. The water swirled around him, trying to keep him imprisoned.

Coyote sank downward, and it was like pulling the plug in a tub. He struggled against gravity and the spirits still swirling around him.

A rushing sound filled my ears, and then the water was over my head. I was being sucked down. Fast. I fought against the current, as Coyote did. He clawed at the ground but his legs were pulled down into the huge black crevasse. The spirits continued to rotate at a dizzying pace around him, even as he scrambled to grab onto a juniper.

Water filled my nose. I choked and flailed. My life-long, magic-induced fear of water took over, and I once again forgot that I was Water as much as it was me. Panic flooded my system and my wrist pulsed with nauseating pain each time I moved it.

The juniper ripped from the ground and Coyote disappeared into the hole.

I blinked as the world began to fade at the edges. I couldn’t feel my lips, and I guessed they must be blue.

Water filled my lungs. I quit struggling. I’d never been a competent swimmer—having never been taught—and I wouldn’t have managed this long without my spirits.

I sighed out the last of my air.

T
he week
before my twentieth birthday, I’d walked down to the acequia behind our house—the small stream had long been my favorite place. I couldn’t remember what, exactly, had happened there, but just thinking about the spot made me smile.

That night, it didn’t work.

I’d settled on the bank. Because of the long, deep drought, the ditch was dry, it’s bottom filled with rocks and trash. I mourned the drooping bushes and brown, crisp foliage. Spring had yet to come and already the air was ripe for wildfires.

Sadness rose up, hard and fast. I struggled to breathe under the weight of the disappointment.

“Why so sad?” He’d slid next to me, sitting close enough for our elbows to brush. His voice reminded me of pipe tobacco and the bass notes on a cello.

Instead of worrying about this stranger, I tipped toward him, wanting nothing more than to lean into him. I studied him, my head beginning to pound. He looked so familiar.

His eyes, warm and soft as he brushed my hair back from my face, called to me.

“I know you,” I sighed. “You’ve done that before.” Relief filled me.

He nodded as he picked up a thick hank of my hair, wrapping it around his thumb.

“Can you tell me when we first met?”

“I wish I could, Echo. Just know you’re important to me.”

I needed more than my mom’s platitudes. I was about to be twenty, and I’d never come close to accomplishing anything worthwhile, let alone interesting. Hell, I hadn’t done the most basic of teenager activities like sneak out or drink alcohol.

My chin trembled and I looked back out across the parched, dusty land. It, like me, was slowly dying. Its soul too long unfed.

“I don’t like to see you so unhappy.”

“I don’t fit here,” I sighed. “This place or this family. Everything feels off.”

“Mm.”

I glanced over from the corner of my eye. He was frowning, his eyes distant.

Now that I’d started talking, the words fell faster and faster from my lips.

“I’m not sure what the point is. Seems silly to keep going through motions that don’t matter.”

“They matter. More importantly, you matter, Echo. So much.”

“I don’t see how,” I said, clutching my knees as I once again looked out over the dry ditch. “Everything’s dead or dying.”

“You’re not. You’ll save it all.”

I threw a pebble into the empty creek bed. He took my chin in his large, warm palm. Meeting his dark brown eyes, I yearned for life—all those tangled emotions my mom tried so hard to keep away.

“You’re my light,” he said, his voice soft. “In all the ugliness, all the struggles our people face, you’re what I look toward. The reason I can still do this every day.”

I wanted him to kiss me, this man with dark, concerned eyes and russet hair. I leaned in until I was all but touching the soft curve of his lower lip. The heat from his skin mingled with mine. I waited a heartbeat, needing the connection with him.

“Echo,” he said, his voice even lower with desire and regret.

Not this, too. I wasn’t willing to give up this opportunity. I held my breath and pressed my lips against his. Our noses bumped and I startled, pulling back at the awkwardness.

His hand tipped my chin, his warm breath fanning my cheek, before he pressed his lips to mine again. I shivered at the perfectness of the moment as he moaned his surrender, his fingers sliding up my cheekbones to tangle in my hair.

* * *

“
G
reat time to pass out
.”

I managed to slit one eye open, but my eyelid slammed back shut as my brain tried to explode out of my skull. This wasn’t a normal headache, even for me.

“Unh!” I moaned. “Dead?” I managed. I sounded like a throat cancer survivor.

“That good?” Zeke chuckled.

Silence followed. I took a deep breath and squinted as I forced my eyes open. Zeke slid in front of me, the glare of the sun reflecting off his armor so that he looked like he was covered in blood.

“Are you dead, too?” I asked.

“No,” he sounded amused.

“Why are you red?”

He shifted as I raised my hand. Relief loosened the knot in my chest when I realized it was simply a trick of the light. “Not blood,” I sighed.

“I’m good.”

He certainly was. A little disheveled, but those wide lips quirked up and his brown eyes sparkled as he smiled. Damn. I liked that happy look on him.

The silence had become too long as I stared.

“You ruined my dream,” I blurted out. My face flamed redder than the sun. Much as I wanted to close my eyes, I didn’t want to miss any of Zeke’s smile.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry.”

“Because I’m not,” he said, a frown building between his brows. I sighed, depressed his moment of happiness had passed. “I needed you to wake up. I needed to know you were okay.”

“I wasn’t. I couldn’t get back to the surface of the water.”

“I had to do CPR after your spirits brought you up.”

I touched my lips just as Zeke’s eyes dropped to them. My body heated. Okay, I wasn’t dead.

“What time is it?”

“I have no idea. It’s been dark a long time.”

“How long was I unconscious?”

“A while.”

“I dreamed you were kissing me,” I said. Boom. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. In for a penny . . . I cleared my throat. “Like you did that first time behind my house. And the second.”

His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. “What do you remember?”

“Not you giving me CPR. Sadly. I think I would’ve liked it.”

“Echo.” His voice held a warning.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Coyote went into the
sipapu
you opened under the water.”

“So did you. Ready to stand up now?”

“No! I was in the
sipapu
?”

“Almost. Your spirits fetched you out in time. Barely.”

His rock-blade knife and sword were tucked into his belt. The hilt of his blades gleamed, reflecting the first reds and golds from the sun. I totally needed a sword. As usual, the long shaft of his spear was visible over his shoulder. The man was a walking arsenal. My walking arsenal. Now that I had battled with him, I was keeping him.

I smirked at the thought. Zeke wouldn’t be kept.

“I’m really glad you’re still alive,” I said.

“Of course I’m alive. I told you I’d protect you. I’m not done yet.”

“You make it sound like I look for trouble.”

“You do.”

“I do not! It finds me. That’s different. I think.”

“Echo, screw that lovely head back on right.”

“It’s backward?” I managed to gasp, everything muzzy and shifting in and out of color to grayness.

“You always this spacey after a fight?” Zeke asked, cocking his head, a teasing grin building. I couldn’t look at him anymore. Not with thoughts of our kiss still fresh in my mind.

Why did I have to miss the CPR? That would have been the highlight of my night.

“First time taking down a god and nearly drowning. Which was really scary, by the way. I think I might be in shock.”

“None of the kachina will forget what you did here today. Neither will Coyote.”

“My arm hurts.”

“Coyote crushed it, but thanks to your extended time in the water, it’s already knitting back together. I’m not as good at healing as Layla is, so I can’t tell you what’s mended. Don’t take it out of the sling,” he grumbled, placing my hand gently back into the makeshift bandage.

I twisted it and grimaced. “Not healed.”

Zeke shook his head. “The bones were crushed, Echo. That’s a lot of trauma. I think your leg’s nearly as bad.” He frowned, fingers hovering over my jean-clad thigh. “If Layla were here, she’d be able to fix you up faster and better than I can. Though one of the spirits stuck around, told me what to focus on healing first. He was worried about you.”

“Honani?” I asked, warmed by the image of him hovering over Zeke’s shoulder.

Zeke smiled. His lips were chapped and the bottom one split, a drop of blood forming there. “Good guess.”

“He likes me.”

Zeke dipped his head. “So he does.”

“Is he okay?”

“He seemed to be. He bossed me around just fine.”

“Did you put something to my throat? Coyote tried to crush my windpipe at one point.”

“Pretty much succeeded, too. Highly effective maneuver. Especially on someone so much smaller. I put some salve on it. It’s Layla’s recipe. Your throat’s almost healed, by the way. From Jaguar. Not Coyote. That’ll take a while longer.”

“Layla rubbed some on me earlier. It seemed to help then. You’re not hurt?” I asked. I wiped the drop from his lip. His warm breath tingled over my fingers.

“A few cuts that are already healing. The bruises take longer. Not as long as your broken bones though. I’ll be fine.”

I glanced around. I couldn’t see anything but typical New Mexican scrub and dirt. The dirt was damp.

“Where’d the water go?”

“Most of it went down the
sipapu
.”

“So no problems with the kachina you were fighting? I couldn’t find you after.”

“I got caught in the water. It filled the whole valley. We’re going to have to talk about your magic,” Zeke said, his brows pulling downward. “What you did. Echo, I can’t believe you sent a god back to the underworld.”

“The spirits did a lot of it by helping with the water. And you opened the
sipapu
.” I lifted my face to the sky, touched my pendant, which felt icy against my skin. “Thank you,” I whispered.

The air around me dropped to meatpacking cold. A spirit hug. I smiled, the freezing temperature heating my heart. I liked knowing they were there, just a mind call away.

Zeke brushed a piece of hair from the corner of my mouth. His eyes stayed there, intent for a minute, before he raised them back to mine.

“What did the storm do to the people around here?”

Zeke stepped forward and clasped my hand. We inhaled at the surge of energy that spiked through our knitted fingers. This was wilder than our earlier connection, like Zeke had quit holding such a tight rein on his emotions. Or my mom’s powers at reading emotions were much stronger than mine.

Mom. I let my eyes slide closed for a moment. Yes, it was still there; her magic’s warmth surrounded my heart, keeping the building sadness from crushing me.

He brushed my hair from my cheek. “I’m sorry about your mom, Echo. I know you were close.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “And it does help, knowing you care. That I’m not completely alone.”

Zeke nodded. He pulled out the salve again and dabbed at a spot just under my right eye. He slid his hand down and cupped my chin. The gesture was sweet. If only Layla could see this side of Zeke.

“What is it?” I asked.

He took a deep breath and leaped off an emotional cliff, concern warring with his need to share. “My mother wanted power. She was the product of a minor goddess and a human.” He dropped his hands just before they clenched so tight, his knuckles split. “My father didn’t love her, and I seriously doubt she loved him. Not if even one of the stories about him is true. So my existence is a fluke of the greatest universal proportions.”

“On a positive note, you’re like me.” At his questioning look, I said, “Mostly god.” And if I was, if Zeke was, maybe Layla and the fourth of our group was, too.

I placed my hand over his, planning to tell him. Instead, I was inundated with the deep, searing ache he was trying hard to suppress. He leaned into me for a moment, and I realized I soothed him. I smoothed my hand up his arm, trying to confer as much comfort as I could.

Eventually he looked up, and relief slowed my heart rate. His eyes weren’t as haunted as his emotions had been moments before.

“Up now. I’ve got you.”

Zeke pulled me to my feet slowly, draping his other arm around my waist, supporting my entire weight with his chest.

“Your leg?”

I tested its ability to hold my weight, but it buckled.

“I didn’t think Coyote broke it,” I complained.

“He didn’t. But your knee may be sprained.”

As I sagged, the hilts of his weapons pressed into me. I glanced up to apologize and found his gaze on my lips. I kissed him, or maybe he kissed me, I’m not sure and I didn’t care.

This kiss was even better than the last. We should do this more often.

“Echo. Stop.”

I pressed my cheek against his pounding heart.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“By kissing me?”

“I liked kissing you. But fighting like that—it’s a zone. A violent one.”

I rather liked him out of control. At least when it came to his feelings about me.

“I trust you.” The word, supposed to be reassuring, came out more as a question.

Zeke pulled my good arm forward, pressing a kiss to my palm.

“You shouldn’t. There are so many things you shouldn’t do with me.”

Zeke pressed his hand to my back, rubbing it up and down. His other thumb caressed the back of my head. I sighed, melting deeper into his arms.

“I remember my mom yelling at you. But, Zeke, she doesn’t get to tell me who to l—”

“She had every right,” Zeke said, interrupting my declaration. “Especially when it comes to me.”