Echo Soul Seekers

fourteen

Daire

By the time we exit the liquor store with the cigarettes secured in my bag, Dace is gone. Hopefully headed back to school, having realized the huge risk he takes by following me.

Thinking of me.

Loving me.

I follow Chay into the bookstore, where he proceeds to meander the aisles, peering at the kind of titles I’m pretty sure he has no interest in. Loitering in a way that makes me wonder why he decided to bring me here in the first place.

When the redheaded woman working the register calls to some unseen person in back—saying something about heading over to Gifford’s to buy a roll of stamps—I can’t help but notice the way Chay perks up as she exits. Darting for the counter the second the door closes behind her, he approaches it with a purpose I can’t even fathom. Then smiles in greeting when a man with jet-black hair and eyes to match slips from behind the curtain, his gaze slanting toward me in question.

“Daire Santos.” Chay bends his head toward me.

“Lucio Whitefeather.” The man nods, gripping my hand in a nice, firm shake.

“Whitefeather?” I glance between him and Chay.

“Lucio is Leftfoot’s son,” Chay mumbles, as he guides me through the curtain, into a back room that, from the looks of it, seems to do triple duty as a storeroom, a break room, and a shipping center, judging by the number of large cardboard boxes strewn all about.

“Good timing,” Lucio says. “Just got some new arrivals.”

I watch as they hover over the box, cutting through thick bands of brown tape, only to reveal … books?

“I don’t get it.” I screw my mouth to the side. Try to make sense of it. “What’s with all the secrecy?”

Lucio looks between Chay and me, taking the lead when he says, “The Richters don’t just control the town—they control what’s sold in town.”

I gaze at the stacks of books with brightly colored covers—books about mastering one’s destiny, creating a better world from the inside out—a far cry from the kinds of books I’d expect.

“So, you’re saying that in addition to their long list of evil deeds—they’re now book banners too?”

“They’ve banned anything they consider too inspirational or too informational.” Lucio and Chay exchange a private look. “They don’t want the people empowered. That wouldn’t bode well for them.”

“So they censor?”

“Ever listen to Enchantment radio?” Lucio asks.

I shake my head. It never even occurred to me to do so. I’m pretty much married to my iPod.

“It’s filled with all the music and all the news they see fit to share. The town paper’s no better.”

“Okay, but still—why all the secrecy? Why not just order this stuff online and have all the self-help, inspirational books you desire delivered right to your door?”

“They run the local post office and the local Internet provider as well.”

My eyes grow wide. Sheesh. I knew this town was bad. I knew the Richters were evil. But I guess I never knew just how far it went. They’re complete and total fascists. One more reason to get myself to the Rabbit Hole and do what I came here to do.

“So, why do you stay?” I glance between them.

“Someone’s got to fight the good fight.” Chay grins, choosing a book from the stack and slipping it into my bag. Bidding a quick good-bye to Lucio and rushing me out the back door as soon as the redheaded salesclerk returns.

“So how about I take you home?” Chay broaches the question in a casual way, which stands in direct opposition to the probing look that he gives me.

“Home? Don’t you mean school?” I quirk a brow, looking at him when I add, “Actually, I thought I’d just hang in town for a while. Find a quiet place to read my new book.” I pat the side of my bag, though the look in his eye tells me he’s not buying my act.

“I wouldn’t recommend that. Best to keep that kind of thing to the privacy of your own home.”

“So, you’re saying our homes are private?”

A smile tugs at Chay’s lips. “Paloma’s is.”

“What’d you give me, anyway?” I ask, having barely had a chance to look at it before he shoved it deep into my bag.

“Book about manifesting and intent—nothing Paloma can’t teach you.”

I stare at him, feeling a little lost in his words.

He rubs his chin, casts a look around to ensure no one’s listening. “Daire, I wanted to show you what you’re up against. You’re grossly underestimating El Coyote if you think you can just barge in there and do what … what I think you’re planning to do. They’re far more powerful than you realize. That pack of cigarettes in your bag may get you past the demons that guard the vortex, but what are you going to do once you’re in? Do you even have a plan—or are you acting on an irrational blend of passion, anger, and adrenaline?” His gaze levels on me, waiting for me to respond, but when I don’t, he goes on to say, “If you head over there now—you’re only going to succeed in getting yourself killed.”

“Not true,” I say. “Cade won’t kill me—he needs me. He knows I can’t just will myself to stop loving Dace—it doesn’t work that way. So the longer he keeps me around, the stronger he gets. He’s the one who benefits.”

“Don’t think for a second he won’t kill you in order to save himself because I guarantee you he will. Your drive to slay him is only as good as the strength you have to back it with. And, Daire, you’re just not strong enough. I can’t let you do it. Not yet anyway. Besides, you don’t have to go this alone. You have plenty of resources in Paloma and me. Even in Leftfoot and Chepi and Lucio, who you just met. Let us help you. Let us show you how to do this the right way.”

I stand before him, weighing his words.

“C’mon.” He slides an arm around my shoulder and leads me down the street to his truck. “No shame in heeding an old man’s wisdom.”