CHAPTER 13
I don’t remember leaving the hospital, or the drive through Hollywood. One minute I was in the ER waiting room at Cedar Sinai, hoping for news of some sort, the next I was driving up a dirt road toward the Hollywood sign. My subconscious had taken the wheel while my mind was in turmoil. Alex was critically injured. He could even die. Sweet, goofy, nerd king Alex . . . brilliant, young, and entrapped by some monstrosity playing games with us. We were supposed to be hunters. Right now? I felt like the hunted.
It was supposed to have been an easy stakeout, to watch and see who came to visit, and to try and confirm if she was actually home. Nothing more. We didn’t even have a battle plan ready yet. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly if I wasn’t careful, I could bend it.
Predawn gray began to change as daylight crept incrementally closer. Fate had led me here. Or I had been pulled. Either way, this was the one entity I knew who would know the answers.
There would be a price. There always was. This time, though, I was willing to pay it.
I’d lost team members before—with MHI in the old days, with Special Task Force Manticore, and most recently with the Kidon. Each wounded or dead comrade hurt me just as much as the last, and this was no exception.
The difference now, though, was this one felt personal. Something had sent the blood fiends after us, and it was probably my fault. Or, in a roundabout way, the Court of Feathers was to blame. It had been their Herald, after all, who passed along the stupid warning in the first place. Blame could also be laid at my father’s feet. Maybe if he had been more forthcoming with his information, Alex wouldn’t be in the hospital. Or perhaps Tezcatlipoca didn’t think one mere mortal dying warranted much concern. Lots of Hunters end up dead or crippled in this business. It was just that dangerous.
The cloud cover overhead matched my mood. It was the typical hazy, polluted morning that had plagued the area the past week or so, threatening to rain but not quite doing so. It was enough to block out the sun and keep the temperatures down, but nothing else. I would have preferred the rain. At least rain gives life. Too much could kill, but that was how life was with all things. While Tlaloc—a distantly related cousin worshipped as a rain god once upon a time—wasn’t as vicious or sadistic as some of the other members of the Court, he was still a monster.
I stopped the car near the repaired fence of the broadcasting station, which looked good as new. If I hadn’t known better, there would have been no way to tell a zombie outbreak had happened up here. The MCB had done a tremendous job at hiding the evidence, and I’d never even heard a thing about it on the news. They’d even brought in fresh sod and laid the squares down to hide the gore stains on the old, dead grass.
Looking out across the valley, in the early hours of the morning Los Angeles was a strange, forlorn place. The daytime was always filled with the hopes and dreams of the aspiring people looking to make it big in a city that cared not a whit for them. At night, the same people partied hard to release the stress of the day, to cleanse their emotional palates from the rigors of life. It was more alive then but bereft of its soul. Or perhaps the corrupted soul was more on display?
These hours between, though? The gray hours. They were indescribable. The life and energy was gone, replaced simply by a sense of exhaustion. The longer I looked out over the sprawling, seething mass of civilization, the more I could see that the city was tired and dying. This place should have died long ago, when it burned bright with hope and wonder, and not after falling into such squalor. It was only a matter of time before civilization devoured itself here, to become a parody of life. The city would consume the innocents the same way it had almost snagged Alex, and had our missing werewolf, Nicole. Civilization here needed to be cleansed, lanced like an infected boil. It was a sprawling, uncaring rot of existence. The old ways were better, cleaner. Bone and flame, tribal instincts, fighting tooth and claw to survive. My kind had been rulers of old, humanity nothing more than livestock to be kept, fed, and slaughtered.
I shook my head, irritated.
“Shut the fuck up,” I whispered at the monster within. The nagualii always struck when I was down, feeding off my depression and sadness to try to exert more influence over my mind. “I need to think. Go away.”
Civilization was not a blight on the world. The world was a place worth living in. We had come a long way since living in caves and harnessing fire. This was humanity’s moment, not the monsters who lived in the shadows and hunted like craven cowards. What lay dormant beneath the oceans in some dreamless sleep needed to fucking stay there, and I would do everything in my power to make damn sure of it.
Feeling a little calmer now that the nagualii part of me had been silenced, I moved to the back of the building. The grass here hadn’t been replaced, but there hadn’t been a need. The zombies had focused on the front entrance of the gate, where the living had congregated. The back was nothing but scrub bushes and a few small pine trees.
It was fairly easy to find the ravine. I looked up into the sky, watching the red light atop the tower blink steadily for a few moments before I started descending. The path was narrow. Instead of stopping near the top and hoping the avatar would find me, I went farther down, searching for a spot where I could sit, unseen, and simply think and meditate on things. Somewhere to let my mind dwell on the good memories.
A small bluff along the trail about halfway down was the perfect spot. There wasn’t much trash here, and judging by the poor condition of the trail it wasn’t used much, if at all. I could see both the San Fernando Valley to the north and the Los Angeles basin to the south. I could even make out the towering skyscrapers of downtown Los Angeles. Turning slowly, I spotted the old Griffith Park Zoo down below. Alex had been severely disappointed to learn, when we’d first set up shop here, that it had been shut down a few years before. He had a strange fascination with giraffes. Roller coasters, ancient mythology, and giraffes. The boy was weird.
This spot would do.
I sat cross-legged and faced east. Far in the distance I could see the first rays of light cresting over the San Gabriel Mountains. The clouds didn’t let much of the light through, but it was enough. Sunshine always felt better than the dark. Light meant hope, which meant life. The rising sun chased away despair, and though I knew evil existed in daylight as well as dark, it felt manageable during the day. Even with the clouds hiding it, the light was out there, waiting. The good memories needed to be honored. The bad ones could wait their turn.
“The poet breathes life into the void, creating beauty of nothing,” a familiar voice whispered from the nearby bushes. “The scholar explains what beauty is but cannot create. Balance is made and maintained.”
“Tezcatlipoca.”
“Light heralds my arrival, daughter.”
I opened my eyes and found the avatar sitting on a small rock directly in front of me. The three-legged housecat this time instead of the menacing giant jaguar, except this time the cat was cloaked in black smoke. Looking out into the LA basin, the smog obscured my view. The tall buildings of downtown had been swallowed by the pollution. It was another glorious day in Southern California. No wonder the god of smoke and obsidian seemed to like it here.
“Of what do you wish to speak, child?”
Right to the chase, then. Even he must have known I was hurting. A welcome change of pace. I took a deep breath. “I need your assistance.”
“You did not ask for the Court’s assistance?” the cat avatar thing asked. I swear it looked smug, as though it had always known this day would come. So much for him feeling sympathy for my aching soul. Asshole.
“The authorities here are aware of the Court of Feathers and have said if they contact me, I have to report it,” I told the truth as I eyeballed the avatar. “You, as stated in the past, are no longer part of the Court.”
“Truth,” the cat nodded knowingly. “I am imprisoned, outcast, bereft of title in their eyes. I am no longer of the Court. This is clever of you to lie without lying. Such is our way.”
“I don’t trust them,” I added. “Or you either, really. But I don’t have time for their riddles now. I need answers. I suspect you’ll give them to me, as long as you feel it benefits you.”
“The Court’s truth is its own. It is not yours. I am Tezcatlipoca. You are of me. My truth is your truth.”
“But at what cost?” My palms were sweaty. He’d been trying to “collect” me for decades, and I’d always managed to resist him. Only a fool thinks they can play with fire and not get burned. You can’t weasel your way out of deals with ancient beings forever, no matter how clever you think you are.
“A birthright has no cost, child.”
“Nothing is free.”
“The Daughter of Smoke seeks counsel? What father would deny such? Beyond counsel requires action. Action has cost.” The avatar chuckled. “Heed me or not, you will do as you will. About what shall I counsel you? The fate of the scholar child of the sea, who lies in the building of the sick, bitten upon his throat?”
“Yes.” I swallowed as a lump grew in my throat suddenly as Alex’s face appeared in my mind. “He’s a strong man. Smart. A good friend, and better human being.”
“Spare me your tears,” the avatar said. “It is unwise to show weakness in the presence of a predator.”
“Like I give a shit what you think.”
The cat flicked out its little claws and examined them. “Ah, but I care about your success.”
“As long as it benefits you.”
“You may despise me, yet you are not fool enough to disrespect me,” the cat avatar told me as I felt the raw power behind his words. Like him or not, Tezcatlipoca was an incredibly potent force. Even locked away in an extradimensional prison he could direct things and exert influence on lesser beings. Twisting the features of the avatar beneath the cat’s face ever so slightly, just to demonstrate that within those golden eyes lay something horrific and old, ancient in this world and the next. Maybe not evil, but definitely not good. I felt myself drowning in those eyes, struggling to breathe in the expansive nothingness of it all. He pulled back. Time returned. Shivering, I pulled my arms across my chest. It did little for the chill.
“Give your request before I change my mind.”
I hurried. “I need information about the enemy we face today.”
“You seek power and dominion over your enemies?” The cat seemed to perk up at that, since he represented a god of darkness and violence. “Finally.”
“No. Only information.”
“Child, all information is power. Your scholar ally who waits at the doorway to Mictlan understands this. Why can’t you?”
Mictlan was the Aztec underworld, where the obsidian knives are creaking. “Will Alex live?”
“He shares your new desert faith, thus his fate is not my decision to make. As for the knowledge you seek, I am banished from the Court, yet trusted allies within it relay information to me which could be beneficial. Those who would trade in secrets and shadows have not forgotten our debts. All our debts, large or small.”
I nodded. “So you have spies.”
“My allies have spies,” Tezcatlipoca corrected. “Your enemy is a very capable foe, more so than you realize. If you challenge her forces with what you have today, you and all your allies will certainly perish.” I believed him too. He might withhold the truth—lying by omission—but when he answered so directly it was usually true. “If I were to aid you in this battle, your triumph is not assured . . . for she is near, and I am far . . . but it is possible.”
“Your cost for assisting me in this battle. Name it.”
“You,” the cat avatar replied, as if that was the most simple and obvious thing in the world.
“In what way, me?” I’d expected something along those lines—fealty, servitude, or whatever—but for him to come out and directly say it was disconcerting.
“Within the span of a few generations, the north will have its vengeance. The Court of Feathers claims to be neutral in the war that is coming. I do not believe in this so-called neutrality. Cowardice will unmake the world, unbind the natural order of things in favor of chaos. I have grown fond of this realm. If all the humans are dead, they cannot worship me. The Court believes it can wait, like a condor looking for scraps of morsels after the kill, but all that will be left is rot and ruin. This I shall not tolerate.”
“What’s all that Court politics got to do with me?”
“When this time comes and I summon you, you would serve as my willing weapon, to help me reclaim what is rightfully mine. I would allow you to unlock your full potential, with power beyond your mortal comprehension. And after our victory over Disorder, you would be royalty within my court . . . if you so choose.”
“Nope,” I told him. “That’s way too open-ended of a deal.”
“I see.” The avatar flicked its tail, displeased. “You would rather be an assassin slave to mere humans than a princess in your father’s kingdom?”
“No deal.” I crossed my arms, scowling as I stared at the avatar. Tezcatlipoca stared back, unblinking, for many minutes before it heaved a sigh more befitting a god than a domesticated housecat.
“Your stubbornness is tiresome.”
“Thanks.”
“That was not meant to be a compliment.”
I sure took it as one. “I won’t be cornered into your fee. I choose my own path. If that means we work together someday, so be it, but it’ll be because I think it’s the right thing to do, not because I got forced into it by some agreement open to your interpretation.”
I’d clearly annoyed Daddy Dearest, but he wasn’t feeling murderous enough to smite me just yet. The avatar cocked its head to the side, seemingly amused. I didn’t know cats could smile like that. It was unnerving. “Do you have any further questions, child? Before you rush off to your near inevitable doom?”
“What can you tell me about this hag in particular?”
“The lands of the conquerors are overripe and rotted. Many fell beings dwell within this realm. She has soldiers and magic. Your hag is old, yet not nearly as ancient as her master. Like me, she is supposed to be trapped. And like me, she has found a way to escape.”
“Agent Franks mentioned us having to access something to get to her.”
“Do not consort with . . . Franks. He is not what you believe him to be.”
Oh, was my father trying to warn me away from bad boys now? But I let that go. “How did this hag get imprisoned?”
“Do you know the legend of King Owiyot?”
I did, actually. It was one of the few I’d picked up while at the orphanage in Oaxaca. The nuns there weren’t really big on fairy tales, but there’d been one sister in particular who seemed more attuned to the weirder aspects of our world, and she loved to tell us the myths of kings long past, those who ruled in the name of the old gods, before the arrival of the conquistadors had upended their entire world. For the better, if you ask me.
“I do.”
Tezcatlipoca’s avatar scowled. “Speak your understanding.”
“Once there was a great king of the Acjachemen tribe,” I began, pulling what I could remember from my childhood memories, which were actually pretty happy, until the locals had decided I was a witch and that they needed to burn me. “His name was Owiyot. He loved his people, and they him. Except his rivals were jealous of how much he was loved, so they conspired against him, portraying him as cruel. They turned his people against him and cursed him. Owiyot led a war against his enemies but failed, because they had allied themselves with a foul creature from the Distant Lands and the being poisoned the king. With his last act before dying, the king vanquished the creature.”
“Your legend is wrong. It was not vanquished,” Tezcatlipoca explained patronizingly. “With the aid of a mighty shaman, it was imprisoned.”
Tezcatlipoca was making too much sense. My father was many things—some sort of alien, godlike monster being at the top of that list—but he was always reticent with his information. He was worse than an old miser handing out alms to beggars. Offering me so much freely made me more than a little suspicious.
“Is the monstrosity the hag?” I asked, though I was fairly certain the answer was yes.
“Asking questions you already know the answer to is unbecoming of a child of this House.”
“Then how’s it getting free?”
“Sacrifices in the beauty of the flesh, the blinded eyes, and the devourer of life. Once they all are made, the creature will be able to break free of its prison at a certain time and place.”
“What?” I asked. The cat turned and looked toward the broadcasting station, like I was stupid. Ah yeah, the zombies. Those had been a side effect of the leftover necromantic rituals. I could have slapped myself in the forehead. “The human sacrifices are designed to let her out. And she was out and about before that . . . I bet those earlier sacrifices were some of the things Agent Orwig covered up for her.”
“Once fully free, you will lack the strength necessary to kill her, and she will serve her master well.”
“Pretty sure cluster bombs and napalm will fuck her night right up.”
“In this realm they will not. She must be thwarted before her ascension, or not at all.”
“Well, isn’t that just peaches . . . Wait a second. You knew all this before. Orwig was covering for the hag. She wouldn’t have him killed by two monsters who are native to South America. You’ve got allies on the Court still who owe you debts. You did it!”
“The child is wise,” the avatar stated, as if it should have been obvious to me from the start. Which it should have.
“I almost got killed! Lizz almost got killed! Beesley’s still all messed up and her partner got his head yanked off!”
The housecat just looked at me like, So?
The more I thought about it, the worse it became. The first time we’d crossed paths with the hag, she’d lost her corrupted MCB agent. My clever ruse to have Lizz distract it from feeding on the young man must have tipped her off further. When I’d left Alex alone, the creature had already known we were hunting it and had struck first. His injury was my fault because I had made a foolish mistake—I’d underestimated it.
The nagualii was pushing hard to be released, to hunt down and kill the threat, but the prospect of my other half roaming the streets of the city was a terrifying one. There was no way I could let it out. Ruthlessly, I shoved it away. The monster could never gain full control.
“You were picking this fight, with or without us!”
“I did not send you there that night, child. That was your decision alone which brought you to that place. It is your destiny that you fight on the same side as mighty Tezcatlipoca. The ahuizotl knew not who you were. If you had not killed it, I would have to, for striking one of the royal line—even unwittingly—is a great crime.”
The golden eyes of the cat glowed in the midday light. I could feel the power of the creature through the gaze. Peering into the depths of my soul, I felt naked and exposed. The waves of his unnaturalness washed over me. I felt the raw power of something more. It made me ill. This was no simple monster. Man’s worship in centuries past had given Tezcatlipoca power. Hundreds of thousands of souls, possibly even millions across the years, given willingly in his name. It made me want to cower, to hide. I did neither. This would be seen as weakness, and a nagualii could never afford to be weak. I stood strong and withstood the power behind the gaze. Somewhere deep within the swells of insanity and darkness, I could almost feel my father’s approval.
It was not something I’d ever wanted and could do without having again.
“I can see you are set on your path. You will make war against your enemy today, regardless of the futility of it. Without my aid, you will surely perish, but you will not accept my terms.”
“I guess we’re at an impasse then, huh?”
“No. I will give you this gift.”
A shadow passed by. I heard a whistling noise in the air and looked up to see a gigantic buzzard flying overhead, carrying something in its talons. The bird let go, and a black object fell, flipping through the air. It was a knife, and it landed point down in the sand, directly between me and the avatar.
“Take this. While you wield it, you will be able to enter your enemy’s prison. There, you may defeat her.”
The knife’s handle was made of white bone, but the blade was something else entirely. I thought it was black iron, but that couldn’t be right since the material appeared to have grown organically from the bone.
“It is known as the Black Heart of Suffering.”
Ominous. “No, thanks. I already told you I’m not paying your price.”
“There is no price. This is an inheritance.” The cat turned and sauntered off into the weeds. “Besides, it is not mine to give, merely to return. It belonged to your mother.”
What? That made no sense. My mom had been a poor innocent farm girl who’d been preyed upon by a malevolent ancient thing. “What do you mean, belonged to her?”
“It is not for the father to tell the story, but for the daughter to remember it.” With that, the cat walked into a cluster of bushes nearby, and disappeared, leaving me all alone on Mount Lee once more.
“Oh, fuck you too, Dad.”
Hesitantly, I reached down and picked up the little knife. The blade seemed to swirl when I looked at it, like it was made out of super compressed smoke. I hated to admit it, but as someone who knew her way around a knife, this thing was really comfortable in the hand.
As I was making my way back toward my car, I heard Tezcatlipoca’s voice as a whisper on the wind. “There are many prisons between the worlds. They should remain closed. Tell your allies this: If the doors to prisons are to be flung open, they must be prepared for what follows.”
“I hate this mystical bullshit,” I said to no one, because I could already tell he was gone back to wherever he’d been entombed. My father had just given a warning if I’d ever heard one. However, I wasn’t certain if it had been directed at me in particular, or something I needed to pass along to someone else. Regardless, I needed to get back to my team, who were probably wondering where I’d gone.
First, I had to go and check in on a friend. Then, it would be time to hunt.