Echo Soul Seekers

thirteen

Dace

I slow when I see them. Sigh in relief as I watch them make their way down Main Street.

Chay’s a good man. Solid. Dependable. Levelheaded. If Daire’s skipping school to meet him, she must have her reasons.

I scrunch down in my seat when they stop at the curb. Feeling like a filthy stalker when Chay catches me watching. Though the look he shoots me is one of unspoken solidarity. Luckily, Daire’s too busy talking to notice my presence.

I stare at her lips, straining to read them. Determined to punish myself when I imagine she’s talking about us. How our love was doomed from the start. How I slept with her, then dumped her less than two hours later.

Maybe she thinks I’m choosing not to fight.

That I’m rolling over, letting Cade win.

God knows she insinuated as much last night in my kitchen.

And maybe that’s why Chay fails to tell her I’m here. Staring helplessly out a dirt-covered window—already reneging on my word—unable to keep my own vows.

Maybe he thinks I’m not worthy of her.

When they disappear into the bookstore, I focus on the Rabbit Hole with newly informed eyes. Wondering how I’m supposed to continue to work there—step foot in there—now that I know what I know.

I hate the sight of the place.

I hate them.

But no sooner have I thought it than Chepi’s voice slips into my head: What have I taught you about hate, my son?

Followed by the dutiful reply I spoke as a kid: That it does more damage to the hater than the hated. To steer clear of it at all costs.

I scrub my face with my hands. Wondering why she bothered to teach a child so presumably good, so supposedly incapable of such a dark emotion—what to do when faced with the specter of hate.

Did she suspect this day would come?

Was she preparing me for a time when my soul would be darkened by grief?

Whatever her reason, there’s no doubt my soul could use a little darkening. If I’ve any hope of overcoming the circumstance of my birth—overcoming my demonic brother—then a little soul tarnish might come in handy.

Don’t fight fire with fire, Paloma said. Claiming it comes to no good.

But how else am I supposed to fight?

Am I expected to glow so bright and good that Cade’s destroyed by the sheer blinding sight of me?

Am I supposed to sit back and do nothing—allow my brother to kill Daire by stealing her soul like he did in my dreams? A dream I mistook for a nightmare. Couldn’t imagine why I’d continually awaken, night after night, drenched in sweat and consumed with thoughts of a girl I’d never met.

Until she ran into me that night at the Rabbit Hole, and the sight of her flipped my world upside down.

Not long after that, when Leftfoot came to me, claiming that my turning sixteen meant it was time for my vision quest, I never imagined my quest would involve her.

Never imagined I would travel to the cave of her vision quest, convincing her to stay put, to see it through. Showing her the kind of greatness she could one day achieve if she could only hang in there just a little bit longer.

By the time it was over I was left with more questions than answers. What did it mean? Why was I there? Why hasn’t Daire ever once mentioned it? Not even the kiss that we shared?

I glare at the Rabbit Hole with its stupid neon sign with the glowing arrow pointing down a steep flight of stairs.

The Richters are idiots.

When the portal failed to admit them to the Lowerworld, they tried to force their way in by digging deep into the earth. Not realizing they stood a better shot at reaching Australia than a mystical dimension inhabited by all things good.

When they finally realized their stupidity, they decided to put it to use by turning it into Enchantment’s most happening place to hang out—Enchantment’s only place to hang out. The drunks on the upper level, the teens on the lowest level, and it’s a wall-to-wall crowd every night.

But now, thanks to Cade stealing Paloma’s soul, and Daire’s inability to sacrifice her grandmother’s eternity for the greater good of all—they’ve found a way to breach the barrier. The story I was forced to cobble together from the scraps I managed to overhear—since everyone seems to think I need protecting, that I need to be shielded from the truth of my family.

Do they really think I’m so freaking pure I can’t handle my own reality?

And worse, do they truly believe I’m incapable of defending myself?

I grip the wheel tighter, glaring at the side of the building as I punch hard on the gas, forcing the pedal all the way to the floor. Wanting nothing more than to crash through that fake adobe exterior, smash that stupid sign to bits, along with all the Richters inside.

But at the very last moment, I swing a hard U and head away from downtown.

Making my way to the reservation, in search of answers that are long overdue.