Choosing Fire: Book Two (The Bone Gatherers 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Choosing Fire (The Bone Gatherers, #2)

  To all the wonderful women in my life...

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHARACTERS

  COMING SOON

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AN RH PUBLISHING BOOK

  FLORIDA

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case, the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Choosing Fire – Book 2 – The Bone Gatherers

  Copyright © 2021 Randi Rayl - RH Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art by UniCat Designs

  First Edition: May 2021

  Version 1.0

  ASIN B091B6S7H8

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  To all the wonderful women in my life...

  Remember the goddess that lives within.

  PROLOGUE

  The drums were beating, alerting her village to danger. Metxtli stood at the edge of her community, taking refuge behind a gathering of massive rocks. Wind whipped her ebony hair from its braid. The coyotes had been screaming all night, and she now knew they had been warning her people of the imminent danger. The fire burning down her adobe hut was scorching her eyes. The screams of her mother and brother had been snuffed out by the smoke only moments earlier. Metxtli clutched her ayate blouse, her shell necklace crunching beneath her grip.

  She searched the melee for her father. When the drums had sounded and screams woke them from slumber, her father had grabbed his club and macuahuitl sword to fight off whoever had invaded their village. Invasions had become more and more frequent since the istaixtli, the pale-faced people, had come to their lands.

  But as Metxtli surveyed the chaos, her blood ran cold. These were not the metal-clad conquerors from across the sea, but skulled creatures encased in mist. Their bodies glowed.

  One hundred paces from her, a woman ran through the path, screaming. Suddenly, a figure launched at her body, slamming it to the ground. The figure burst into green smoke, and its bony face seemed to grin.

  Metxtli plunged her fists into her mouth to keep from screaming. Her wide chestnut eyes looked at the woman on the ground. She knew her. It was the grandmother of her dear friend Citlalee.

  The woman struggled and fought against the beast who held her down. The creature stretched out its arms, and smoke misted through its fingertips. As the woman reached and clawed, the smoke entered her eyes and nose. Her screams of terror turned to pain. Bile rose in Metxtli’s throat as she watched the flesh of Citlalee’s beloved matriarch shrivel and melt away. Her body sagged and dropped until it was a case of skin and bones.

  Unable to move, Metxtli screamed. The creature’s head snapped in her direction. Its vacant eye sockets zeroed in on her, ready to strike. It snarled at her with a mouthful of jagged, broken teeth, and like a flash, it charged Metxtli.

  Scrambling from her hiding place, Metxtli ran deep into the desert. Drowned out by the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the sounds of her people screaming in terror faded into the brisk night. She thanked the gods for her agility and speed as she darted through agave and brittlebush, pushing her legs harder and faster. She knew of a small crack that led to a cave. If Metxtli could only get there, perhaps she could hide until the creature gave up and went looking for an easier victim.

  The moonlight shone bright enough for her to see the ridge ahead. But the crunching of sand echoed closer, signaling her pursuer gaining ground.

  A cramp in her side left her struggling to take a full breath. But she pressed on. Metxtli was so close to safety. Her raven hair flowed behind her, and her russet eyes watered as the wind whipped her face. Ten more paces. Ten more and I’ll be at the crack, she urged herself, when she felt the raking of nails down her bare back. Metxtli screamed in pain.

  She stumbled but stayed upright. Five more steps, and she’d be at the crack.

  Blood poured down her back and down her thighs. Suddenly, a tight grip vised around her ankle, bringing her face into the rocky desert floor. The air left her immediately, and the creature mounted her back. She felt its tongue run down the wounds it had made. The acrid smell of rot and metal filled her nose. Metxtli prayed to the four gods.

  Grabbing her hair, the creature flipped her over. The rocks dug into the fresh claw marks. She looked up at the stars. “Quetzalcoatl and Matlolcueitl, please,” she begged. “Please save me and my people.”

  She willed her eyes to gaze upon the being, and her stomach rolled. It was far more grotesque up close. Its flesh was melting and rotted. The pits where its eyes should have been appeared bottomless and cold. Its sharp teeth chewed and gummed in anticipation for slaughter.

  As she had witnessed before, smoke oozed from its fingertips. But this time, feeling it enter her was beyond her worst nightmares. It felt like the smoke was sucking water from every part of her being. It probed and touched her intimately, savoring her fear. She opened her mouth to scream, but her head slammed down as the smoke filled her from the new opening. The invader leaked into her eyes and lungs, and sadness and dread filled her. Her heart beat erratically, fighting against death. It would all be over soon, she realized as her skin crinkled and dried.

  Metxtli’s eyes grew heavy. But instead of feeling the underworld, she felt herself disappearing entirely. The thought made her buck against her attacker in one last stand. That was when she saw it, a form behind the creature running at full speed. She thought it might be another like it. But instead, the form crashed into the creature, knocking it from her body.

  The absence of its dark magic brought air into her lungs. So drained, she barely registered the fight happening beside her. It didn’t dawn on her that the fight was over until powerful hands wrapped around her body. She heard a voice but couldn’t get her mind to focus on the words. Warm tears fell upon her white blouse and face, the moisture absorbed instantly by her paper-dry skin. Hands smoothed down her face. Father? Citlalee?

  She was so cold. But her body was too weak to shiver. Her mind was going. Her body was dissolving into nothingness, and she couldn’t stop it. Yet, warmth seeped into her while she stared at the blue harvest moon. Like an anchor, the fire tied her spirit to her being, and it held fast. Metxtli knew she was dying, but instead of nothingness, the underworld beckoned her. And as she took her last breaths, she felt herself fall from the world of the living. Down, down, down through flames and into her new reality. One of eternity.

  Who had been her savior? Who had tied her to the land of the dead so she could be born anew?

  Metxtli didn’t have time to wonder long. For soon the flames were extinguished, and she was standi
ng before Mictlantecuhtli and his wife, Mictecacihuatl: King and Queen of the Dead.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “No,” Xel sighed. “Shell with an X. Spelled X. E. L. Xel.”

  The barista in front of her had a blank stare. The sharpie was dangling from his fingers. Xel wanted to be frustrated, but the poor kid had just written the names of her entire crew on their coffee cups. They weren’t easy names. “X...X...” the kids kept repeating.

  “Just shell is fine,” Xel said with a sigh, handing him her black credit card.

  It shouldn’t bother her anymore, but five hundred years of people mispronouncing Metxtli got old. Even the shortened version made modern-day mortals stutter, attempting to get out the pronunciation. She stared at the five cups in front of her. There should have been six. But again, Xipilli had been out all night and was missing that morning. Xi, the Jeweled Prince, made Xel crazy. He was so irresponsible, reckless with hearts and his safety with hunting demons. While they were immortal, decapitating a Bone Gatherer meant being sent to the underworld. Permanently. Not to mention, all the showboating he did allowed for the monsters to steal souls while he flipped and sauntered about. She couldn’t figure out what irked her so much about him. Xel looked down at her still-extended hand. The barista hadn’t taken the card. He only stared. Xel raised a brow and wiggled the card a bit.

  The boy’s eyes widened as he accepted the weighty card. Xel doubted he understood that this particular card was only given to people who dropped a half million a year in charges, but he could feel the heft of it. It was a no-nonsense card that whispered money like a mantra.

  The quiver in his hands as he swiped it made Xel wonder if what he had heard it whisper was power. Both were true. Xel plucked it from his fingers, replacing it in her Prada bag. There were serious perks to being immortal. It wasn’t too hard to accumulate wealth when you could buy New York Gas Light shares for a few nickels per share two hundred years prior. Giving the boy a heart-shattering smile, Xel waited by the pick-up area.

  The boy’s eyes widened, and he smiled, clearly smitten. Xel tried not to stare at the bulge the poor kid was trying to hide behind his green apron.

  Xel checked her stock market app and grinned. The hundred thousand shares of nickel stock she purchased in 1824 were now worth eighty-one dollars apiece. All those years ago, Eztlie and Tupack had called her crazy. Atla had smiled and tossed her some coin to buy some for her. Xi had been silent, but offered to escort her. Fixing her hat, she had given her brothers a dirty look, took Atla’s money, and refused Xi’s escort. Half of the fun had been doing it by herself.

  Leaning on the cream-and-sugar station, Xel twirled an ebony curl between her fingers, remembering the looks on the traders’ faces when she walked into the exchange. Some had undressed her with their eyes, while others had given her looks of disdain. But most just gawked in utter awe of her. Perhaps it had been that a woman entered the bullpen, but most likely it had been the aesthetics of the woman who had walked into the New York Stock Exchange.

  She had worn her best that bright, sunny day two hundred years ago. Her drop-waist gown pinched tightly at her small waist. The layers of green ruffled fabric widened at her hips and brushed the floor with a small hoop. Her sleeves were puffed and collected tightly on her forearms and wrist in French lace. Xel’s long brown-black hair was curled and pulled into a flouncy bun atop her head, hidden by her large side-worn hat in green-and-yellow fabric adorned with tiny silk flowers. An opulent jeweled necklace graced her delicate neck with a weight of at least thirty karats in precious stones.

  She closed her ruffled umbrella upon entering the enormous marbled building. And when no one approached her, she grabbed the nearest suited man and shoved her umbrella into his empty hands. “I’d like to buy some stock today.” She smiled, batting her large sienna eyes.

  The young man, clearly an intern, opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.

  She had singled him out, knowing none of the experienced traders would want to work with a woman. Once seated at his miniscule desk, she gave him five thousand American dollars in cash. He remained entirely professional as he counted the colossal sum and gave her the stock paperwork, though Xel had sensed his leg bounced beneath the large mahogany table.

  His chivalry and ethical standards had been rare for a man of his age and trade. Xel traded with the young James Thomasson for sixty years before he died. The sweet man passed in his lake house surrounded by his family at the age of eighty-two. That farm boy from Ohio’s intelligence, kindness, and wit had earned him the position of president of the largest trading company in the world.

  It seemed like yesterday and a millennia ago, Xel mused. She still did business with his company, but would only work with interns and kids trying to make it in that dog-eat-dog world. Looking at her portfolio one last time, she placed her phone in her purse and smiled. James would be so proud of his fourth great-granddaughter. She had taken his company and made it one of the best places to work in the world, providing health and childcare, stock options, and more to her beloved staff.

  “If I was at a beach, I’d definitely pick you up!”

  Xel looked up from her Prada bag. Before her stood a young man pointing to her name on her coffee cup. His tousled hair was partially covering his green eyes. He gave her a dashing half grin and leaned forward to hand her the tray of coffee cups. Clearly, he was used to women falling all over themselves in his presence. Xel looked down at the cups. They managed to spell Sofia, Tupack, and Atla correctly. But they butchered poor Eztlie’s name.

  Xel’s charcoal-lined eyes returned to the guy. “Excuse me?”

  “If I was at the beach,” he purred, grabbing her cup and a sharpie, “I would pick you up.”

  She watched him write a phone number beneath her name. Behind him, several female employees watched the workplace heartthrob flirt with her, hearts breaking all the while.

  Xel rolled her eyes. “I’m engaged,” she lied, and his face fell a bit. “But that girl behind you is stunning.”

  Said girl behind him smiled and stood a little straighter. The boy toy turned to look at his colleague, and by the time he had turned back, Xel was gone.

  ~

  The door shut behind her, but she was certain the staff were still gawking. Not necessarily because of her anymore, but because of the car she was walking toward. The people on the patio, enjoying the cool October morning, stared as she approached her black Audi R8.

  Her cheeks reddened, and she suddenly felt hot. But Xel knew this was not from embarrassment. She looked down at her hands, and flames swirled around them. The man-child’s phone number singed into a black smudge, and the tray curled with the heat. Her heart hammered in her chest. Not here. Not now.

  Quickly, she closed the gap between her and the Audi. The passenger door opened, and Sofia ran around to help her. “That took a while,” she said and then saw Xel’s face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  Xel could only nod. She used her body to hide her remaining hand on fire. “Nothing,” Xel lied. “Just a pushy kid inside, looking to score.”

  “Gross,” Sofia said, taking the tray. “Ow!”

  Sofia juggled the cups from hand to hand, looking at the curling plastic. “How hot is hot enough for these places, I swear. It’s like they boiled the water on the surface of the sun.”

  Xel feigned a laugh, looking down at her now-extinguished hand. Breathing a sigh of relief, the girls got into the car. Carefully, Sofia placed the tray of coffee on the floor and wiped her hands on her pants. Xel gave the newest member of the Bone Gatherers a smile. It was all still so new to sweet Sofia.

  She had only been an immortal for a few months, moving into their mansion on the outer edges of Tucson. She and Eztlie had begun a torrid love affair earlier that year, after finding out Sofia’s boyfriend was actually a māpach in disguise, a demon sent by the god of the living to steal the souls of their Aztec mortal descendants before they could travel to the underworld. And that
was Sofia’s new job, along with the rest of their family of Bone Gatherers, to learn how to find and destroy these monsters claiming the eternal lives of people carrying even a drop of Aztec blood.

  Sofia picked up the cup for her lover. Her nose wrinkled at the poorly written name on the side. “Ezekiel?” she read and gave Xel a look.

  Xel laughed, putting her flameless hands on the steering wheel. “It’s better than last time.” She giggled. “They wrote Elizabeth.”

  Sofia threw her head back and hooted. It might have only been a few months that they knew each other, but Sofia was her new best friend. It felt like she had always been a part of them. And though she loved Atla, she was a bit intense for Xel’s liking. And Xel liked to think Sofia was the kind of girl Xel would have befriended when she was a mortal, if she could remember when she was mortal.

  Xel swallowed. She had been feeling less and less like herself lately. Atla and Tupack were in their own world, reading and researching their enemy. For the past six months, Eztlie had been completely engrossed in Sofia. The only person in her family she ever felt close to was Xi. And he would always keep himself at an arm’s length, especially as they neared the New Fire Festival. Xel thought the Jeweled Prince was incredibly debonair, relating to his royal roots. But as of late, he had been more and more distant. Spending more and more time out with mortals getting drunk and then getting them naked, she was certain. His escapades with females were legendary among their family.

  For five hundred years, they had danced this dance. He would pull her close and then push her away. When he was drunk, they would cuddle, but he never let it go any further. She knew he felt something for her; she could sense it. Why did Xel keep going back to him? Why did she keep begging for even an ounce of his attention? She hated herself for being so weak. Who would Xi be when he came back today? Would he be drunk, normal, or would he be stone-cold sober, which was almost worse because then he wouldn’t even look at her? Why did she only feel fully alive when he glanced her way?