Avi Marie's Arc

Chapter 3 of 30

They followed the fresh tracks uphill until the ground rose into snow. The prints climbed toward a cluster of tall white peaks. Then, at a flat stretch of frost, the trail broke apart. Avi Marie slid off the horse and knelt. Two faint sets of prints ran in different directions. One curved left toward a ridge. One went right toward a dark cave mouth. She could not tell which was fresh. "Garrett," she said. "Read these. I can't." Garrett crouched and pressed his fingers to the snow. He worked slow. Too slow. The wind was already filling the prints. "Both cold now," he said. "Wind's wrecked them. Pick wrong, and it reaches whoever's next before we do." A shape moved at the cave mouth. Avi Marie raised her flowers like a torch. A huge white creature stepped into the light. Fur crusted with ice. Muscles thick as tree trunks. Claws long and curved. Her breath caught. Here was the beast that took her soul. She lifted her hand to strike. "Wait." The creature held up both paws, empty. "I don't fight." His voice was flat and plain. "You're the fourth to come with a raised hand. I'm tired of it." Avi Marie held still. His claws matched the tracks. But he had not charged. "You made these prints," she said. "Some," the yeti said. "Not all. Something else walks my mountain. Wears claws like mine. It passed through last night." He pointed one thick finger at the right-hand trail, toward the dark peaks. "That one's not me. That one's fast. It went down the far slope." Garrett rose. "Why help us?" "You didn't run," the yeti said. "And you didn't swing." He looked at Avi Marie's raised hand until she lowered it. "First ones in a long time." Before Avi Marie could thank him, a man stepped from the rocks above. White robes. White hair. Small, but he moved like he owned the ground. His eyes cut across all three of them. Another angel. She felt the wrongness of him at once. "Azrael Darkwing," he said. He did not offer a hand. "You're chasing the wrong thing." "It took a soul I swore to guard," Avi Marie said. "It takes more than souls." Azrael's gaze went to the right-hand trail. "It carries something that hollows out whoever holds it. I've watched it empty someone." He cut himself off. "That's all you need." Avi Marie looked from the yeti's honest face to the angel's closed one. The yeti had given her the trail. Azrael had given her the beast's true prize. She mounted the glowing horse and gripped the flowers tight. "Right slope. Far side. Now." Garrett swung up behind her. The yeti watched them go without moving. Azrael was already climbing toward the ridge alone. Avi Marie turned the horse toward the dark peaks and the fresh trail down. She knew where the beast had gone. She also knew, now, what it truly carried.