Echo Soul Seekers

forty-one

Dace

I barely make it halfway down the hall before Phyre finds me. Like she’s brandishing some sort of invisible radar that’s programmed to track only me.

She steps free of the shadows, stands right before me, and says, “Hey, Dace.” Her voice soft, her smile pretty.

But it’s the wrong pretty.

Not the pretty I seek.

I nod in acknowledgment. Start to move away. Stopped by her fingers circling my wrist as she pulls me back to her.

“Can we talk?”

I slide my eyes closed. Search for a kind way to tell her to quit thinking of me. Quit stalking me. To leave the past where it belongs—dead and buried.

Opening my eyes again to find myself staring at Daire on the other side of the room, unwilling to break the gaze now that I’ve found her.

“You’re always in such a hurry. You never have any time for me.” Phyre tugs on my arm. Using the tip of her fingernail to trace light circles over my skin in a desperate bid to claim my attention.

I drag my gaze from Daire and focus on Phyre. “There’s nothing to talk about.” I twist free of her grip.

“You say that—but how can you be sure?” She cocks her head to the side, allowing a spray of curls to slide across her cheek. It’s a well-rehearsed, overplayed move. “For starters, aren’t you curious as to why I came back?”

I just shoot her a patient look, hoping it’ll help speed things along.

“It’s no accident, you know.”

“If memory serves—nothing you do is an accident,” I say, remembering all the random times she seemed to just happen to be in the same place as me. How it took a while to realize there was nothing random about it. Though it’s not like I cared. I was just happy to be noticed by a female who wasn’t my mom. The fact that Phyre was so pretty was an added boon.

“You were always so quiet, so introspective. It wasn’t easy to get your attention.”

“You managed though, didn’t you?” My gaze meets hers, and when I see her flinch, I’m surprised to find I enjoy it, which is not at all like me. Must be that piece of Cade asserting its influence. Reminding me I’m no longer the same guy I used to be.

“True,” she admits, shoulders lifting. “What can I say? When I set my sights on something or someone, I usually—no, scratch that—I always get what I want.”

Her gaze is open. Direct. A challenge I’m meant to either deflect or accept. But, instead, I meet it with a face so impassive it gives nothing away.

“After all, I got you, didn’t I?”

My eyes graze over her, allowing myself to indulge in a few clips from the memory reel.

Sneaking away from our parents’ prying eyes in pursuit of a few heady moments under a blanket of stars … a first kiss—her lips determined and sure, mine overeager and inexperienced … a first feel—my awkwardness trumped by her surprising proficiency … another first—the one she insisted upon—though that’s not to say I wasn’t willing … and right after that, they were gone …

Cutting the movie that plays in my head, I meet her gaze and say, “Temporarily. For a short while, I would’ve followed you anywhere.”

“It may have been brief, but for me it was totally worth it. Then again, I was all too willing to settle for whatever crumb you tossed my way.”

“You sure about that?” I fetch a whole different memory—one where she manipulated me into wanting her, needing her, having her—and then, bam—next thing I knew, her family packed up and left, never to be seen or heard from again. The only thing that surprised me is how quickly I recovered. I thought it would hurt more than it did. It’s because of her that I learned to differentiate lust from love. Shortly after, I made a deal with myself to never settle for less.

“It’s not my fault we moved.” She wages a playful defense. “But just so you know, now that I’m back, I’m unwilling to settle again. While it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, truth is, I never stopped missing you. I never stopped thinking about you.” She pauses, allows her tongue to cross her lips, leaving them shiny and wet. “I never gave up on you.”

I swipe a hand over my chin, deciding brutal honesty is the only way to derail this. “Phyre. You were young and sad. You’d just lost your mom, and you were looking for a way to feel better—a way to feel alive—and I just happened to be there. That’s all it ever was. Don’t romanticize it into meaning something it didn’t.”

“Funny, that’s not at all how I remember it.”

I shake my head, try to look away. But the next thing I know, she’s grabbed my wrist again. Her lips softly parting, hovering mere inches from mine. Her determination so steady, she barely reacts when I say, “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” Her fingers form circles, her mouth angles toward mine.

“Don’t force me to say the kind of things you don’t want to hear.”

She loosens her grip, casts a glance toward the far side of the room, the place where Daire stands. “Like what? That you’re in love with the Seeker?”

I frown, not liking the sound of that coming from her.

“What? You think I don’t know who she is? You think I don’t see all the signs?” She gazes up at me from under a thick row of lashes, speaking in a voice gone throaty and low. “You’re not the only one who grew up surrounded by mysticism. Unlike the rest of these people, my eyes have never been closed to the truth of this town.”

“What do you want?” My tone is impatient, tired of playing this game. It’s definitely not just me that she’s after. There’s always a deeper motive where Phyre’s concerned.

“I want the same thing you want.” Her shoulders rise and fall, abandoning all attempts at flirtation and pretense.

“Doubtful,” I mutter, already turning away. Having tolerated more than enough of her manipulative game.

“Does that mean you don’t want Cade dead?” She cocks her head, buries the tip of her tongue in the corner of her lip, challenging me with her gaze.

It’s a gaze I hold for too long.

While the words are right—the energy’s wrong.

I consider a soul jump. Promising myself I’ll be brief. But nix it just as quickly. I can’t afford to do anything that might compromise the work I’ve already done. Besides, I’m pretty sure there won’t be much to see. It’s obvious she’s been listening to gossip. Thinks that claiming to share my newfound hatred for Cade is a sure way to get with me.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell her, and this time I succeed in walking away.

My eyes briefly meet Daire’s as I make for the door. A mistake I shouldn’t have made. Knowing I can’t cross the room to be with her leaves me feeling more isolated than ever.

I shove my hands in my pockets and exit the club. Ducking against the constant veil of drizzle as I make my way to the old chain-link fence, seeking assurance from that little gold lock.

Needing to see if the symbol of our love is still right where we left it—stronger than the forces bent on destroying it.

Wanting one last reminder before I find Cade.