Echo Soul Seekers

ten

Xotichl and I inch forward, sitting elbow to elbow as we lean over the tome. Its vellum pages crafted from thinly stretched cowhide that, while it’s held up well over the years, bears edges that are showing signs of age and wear in the way they’re beginning to wither and curl.

“It’s illuminated!” Xotichl turns to Paloma for confirmation.

“It is indeed.” Paloma nods. “Valentina was very skilled as both a soothsayer and an illustrator.” Referring to one of the very first Seekers in the Santos family tree, who appeared to me during my vision quest, along with Django; Alejandro, the grandfather I never met; and a whole host of Santos ancestors along with their spirit animals.

I peer at the elaborately scrawled handwritten text that at first glance appears to be a convoluted mess of symbols and numbers and words so archaic, so cryptic, they’re impossible to decipher.

“It’s unreadable.” My face droops as I turn to Paloma.

“It appears that way.” She looks at me, a faint glimmer in her eye.

Xotichl’s hands hover over the pages, palms down, her lips screwed to the side. She contemplates for a moment, then says, “It has very pure energy. It speaks only the truth.” She lowers her hands to her lap and sits back in her chair. “Though it came at great cost. A sacrifice was involved.”

Paloma reaches toward Xotichl, eyes shining with pride. “You’re making such progress!” She ruffles her hair, causing Xotichl to catch Paloma’s hand with her own.

“Yes, but there’s still so much more to learn.” Xotichl grins.

I watch the two of them together—the teacher and the student. And yet they’re so much more than that. They’re family. My family. The realization filling me with a warmth I didn’t expect. While Dace may be determined to avoid me in order to protect me, it’s good to know I don’t have to face this alone.

“Valentina was the sacrifice,” Paloma says. “She suffered great trials to accumulate this knowledge, but she did so willingly. As one of the first to face the Richters, she knew the fight would continue—that her child would have little choice but to pick up where she left off. She was determined to leave some sort of guide. This book is the result.”

“Did they speak in a special language known only to them?” I peer at the lettering, the strange symbols, still unable to make any sense of it.

“Valentina took great precautions to ensure the text would not fall into the wrong hands. All too aware that a breach of that kind would’ve proved disastrous for us, she invented an elaborate code that’s not easily deciphered. Since the start of its existence, the book, along with the secret to reading it, has been passed down from Seeker to child. I presented this book to Django on his sixteenth birthday, as is the custom. Though, of course, as you already know, he wanted no part of the Seeker tradition. But now that you’ve accepted your calling, nieta, it’s time I pass it to you.”

Xotichl dips her head and sighs. “Looks like you’ve got some heavy reading ahead of you over Winter Break.” She laughs, determined to make light of a heavy situation.

“Oh, no.” I grasp the book by the edges and slide it toward me. “I’ve no intention of waiting. I’m starting now. That is, if Paloma’s willing to show me how to read this thing.”

I glance at Paloma, watching as she disappears into the kitchen, only to return a few moments later with a tray of homemade sugar-free cookies and freshly brewed tea. Placing a mug before each of us as we turn to the book—remaining like that late into the night.

* * *

The next morning I’m waiting outside Paloma’s blue gate well before Dace is set to arrive. My grief from the night before lessened by what I now know.

It’s like Paloma said, prophecies are tricky. They can be interpreted in a number of ways. And now that I’ve had a chance to read it in the book for myself, my mission is clear.

One must die. There’s no getting around it.

But it won’t be me.

And it won’t be Dace either. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him alive. Even if that means thwarting a prediction made long ago.

Despite Paloma’s telling me that killing is frowned upon, what she doesn’t understand is that a new day has dawned. Now that I know what I know—seen what I’ve seen—it’s clear that Cade Richter must be eliminated.

He may be human, but he’s no ordinary human. And as soon as I’ve dealt with him, it’s just a matter of time before I locate those undead Richters, since they’re only as good as the guidance he gives them. Once they’re gone, the Lowerworld will be free to heal and blossom again, the balance will be restored, and Dace and I will have nothing or no one standing in our way. We’ll be free to love each other for as long as we want.

All I have to do is rid the world of his brother.

The thought providing a much-needed push for what I have to do next.

So when Dace parks his truck before me and hops free of his side to open my door, I remain rooted in place. My gaze fixed on his, I say, “Thanks for stopping by, but I’m getting a ride from Auden and Xotichl today.”

He studies me with eyes that are even more fatigued and red-rimmed than they were when I left him. Speaking my name with a voice so hoarse, it takes all of my will not to barrel into his arms and beg him to forget what I said. Forget what he said. To forget everything and just be with me again.

He reaches for me, fingers straining toward mine, but I quickly withdraw from his grasp. I can’t afford the contact. Can’t afford to be swayed by the lure of his touch. If I’m going to kill his twin, I can’t do anything that will enable Cade to become a more formidable opponent than he already is.

I have to be patient.

Have to believe in my heart that it won’t be much longer until Dace and I are together.

I have to believe it, envision it, and think from the end.

I wave a hand before me, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my fingers shake, the way my voice trembles when I say, “We’re good, okay? Truly. I get why you have to do it. Really, I do.” I choke back the sob crowding my throat, averting my gaze so I won’t have to see his grief-stricken face.

He’s about to speak again, when Auden and Xotichl arrive. Auden’s eyes wide and uncertain, Xotichl’s head tilted, when they find me standing with Dace.

I flash them the wait-a-minute signal, about to say good-bye to Dace when he grabs hold of me. Fingers circling my wrist, he peers at my finger and says, “You’re healed.”

“Looks like Paloma worked another miracle.” I allow a quick grin, then jerk free of his grip. The move costing much more than it appears on the surface. Bearing sole responsibility for the avalanche of ache that rages inside. “And you?”

I peer at the bit of gauze peeking free of his sleeve, marking the spot where Coyote made a feast of his flesh. Watching as he tugs hard on the fabric, dragging it down past the wound. “No miracle required. Not to worry, I’m good.”

I squint, not quite believing it but choosing not to pursue it. I allow myself to hold his gaze for much longer than I should. Bargaining for just a few more seconds of being engulfed in the sacredness of his space—telling myself I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for any damage that ensues.

It takes every last bit of my strength to drag myself from him, but I do. Heading for Auden and Xotichl without once looking back.

“Did you get any sleep?” Xotichl asks, when I slide onto the seat just behind them, trying to act nonchalant, though I’m pretty sure they’re not fooled.

“Not really,” I say. “But strangely, I’m not at all tired.” Determined but not tired.

“Me neither,” Xotichl says as Auden pulls onto the road and cautiously swerves around Dace.

“Well, I am,” Auden quips. “There’s not enough energy drinks in the world.”

His words causing Xotichl to laugh in that delightful way that she has. Pressing her shoulder to his, she snuggles against him and says, “Epitaph had a gig in Albuquerque last night. The crowd loved them so much they played seven encores!”

“Two.” Auden laughs. Yanking affectionately on Xotichl’s ponytail when he adds, “But who’s counting?”

“All I know is that he drove all the way back to Enchantment instead of staying over with the rest of the band, just so he could drive us to school. Isn’t that sweet?” She cocks her head toward me, as I bite back the overwhelming surge of envy when I see the way they get to love each other so openly and easily. Forcing myself to agree that it is indeed sweet of him.

“Yeah, I’m sweet.” Auden grins. “And the second I drop you off, I’m gonna go crash my sweet self until it’s time to pick you both up again.”

“I don’t need a ride home.” I stare out the window, taking in this dump of a town with its rusted cars, sagging clotheslines, and crumbling adobe homes.

For a brief time I’d fooled myself into thinking it was improving—fooled myself that I was the reason. But now, seeing it with untainted vision, there’s no denying this place is a complete and total dead end. Bearing no hint of Paloma’s claim that it was once a good match for its name. I can only hope that once I’ve properly dealt with Cade Richter, this place will be truly enchanting again.

“How you getting home?” Xotichl’s voice is thick with suspicion.

“I’ll find a ride.” I unbuckle my seat belt and grab hold of my bag. “In fact, you can drop me right here.”

“You skipping school?” Auden asks.

“Yep,” I mumble, already distracted by what I now need to do.

“Again?” Xotichl swivels in her seat until she’s halfway facing me.

Her voice colliding with Auden’s, who blurts, “You seriously want me to stop right here?” He squints at me from the rearview mirror. Gaze narrowing further when he adds, “In the middle of the road?”

I nod, already opening the door and freeing a leg.

“What’re you up to, Daire?” Xotichl’s face darkens in a way I rarely see.

Since there’s no use lying to her, I don’t even try. I glance between the two of them and say, “Something that should have been done a long time ago.”

Then I swing the door shut and head for Gifford’s Gift Shop * Notary * & Mailstop. Planning to fill up on some of that freshly brewed coffee they advertise in the window, while I wait for the Rabbit Hole to open for business.