The Soul Seeker: Echo Part 5

I inhale sharply. Vaguely aware of Xotichl stirring beside me, placing her hand on my arm, providing a welcome comfort I didn't expect.

"Please know, nieta, that a prophecy is a tricky thing. It's never as black and white as it seems. The language is often confusing, written in code. Allowing for more than one interpretation. It was only when I saw you and Dace together-saw the stream of energy that binds you-that I began to suspect. Then after a little digging, I learned that your birthdays fall on the same day. Did you know that?"

I shake my head, scowling when I say, "Guess I forgot to check his ID."

My caustic remark causing Xotichl to pat my arm in an attempt to calm me, and Paloma to flash me a look that tells me that while she forgives my mood, she's not about to answer my question until I get ahold of myself.

"So, what does it mean?" I ask, making a concerted effort to soften my tone. "What exactly is it you're getting at?"

"While the prophecy hints at the Echo effect, its definition is not entirely clear. I took it to mean that the twins are connected-deeply so." She looks to me for confirmation, and when she gets it, she adds, "Though, I must warn you, nieta, the prophecy also states that one of you will die."

Xotichl gasps, squeezing my arm so hard it jolts me awake from my dumbfounded state. I lean back in my seat. Allowing the words to roll around in my head, before I heave a deep breath and say, "Fine. Then Cade dies. I'll kill Cade. Then it'll be over and done and we can all move on. And I doubt anyone but Leandro will miss him. And I seriously doubt Dace will mind, since they're not exactly close." I stare at Paloma, my decision now made. But she returns the look with an expression of compa.s.sion tainted by pain.

"No one is here by accident, nieta. The universe does not make mistakes. Everyone has a purpose, and that includes Cade. Which means we don't just go around killing people. You can't be so cavalier when another human life is concerned-" She's about to continue, but her words are cut short by my own.

"Cade isn't human. He's a demonic freak." I fight to steady myself, to contain the bubble of anger rising inside me. "Besides, I'd be doing the whole world a favor. Things have changed since your day. It's beyond hostile out there. And while some of that may be my fault for sparing your soul, which allowed them access to the Lowerworld, the fact is, if some prior Seeker had had the foresight to kill them all a long time ago, I wouldn't be sitting here now feeling like my heart has been crushed while the only future I can look forward to is a dark, lonely, bleak one where I'm expected to fight a battle I've been set up to lose." I narrow my gaze, eager to see how she'll respond. But Paloma remains true to herself. Steady. On course. Refusing to veer from the message no matter how much I bait her.

"And if some prior Seeker had done as you wish, then Dace never would've been born. He may have come in another form, yes, but he wouldn't have been your fated one. It is written. Nothing here is an accident."

I sit with the words, unable to deny them no matter how much I despise them.

"Nieta, make no mistake, a Seeker's job is to restore and heal-to keep the balance between the worlds-and to never stray from the light. We can only contain evil. We cannot eradicate it. As long as humans exist, evil will too. It's up to us to lessen its effects."

I pick at the gauze on my finger, unwilling to fold quite so easily. "Yeah, well, maybe that no longer holds true. Maybe it's time for a new generation of Seeker-one who works in new ways. The balance is clearly out of whack, and I can honestly say, after this last trip to the Lowerworld, that it's getting worse every day. The enemy is not one you're used to fighting, abuela. He's bigger, stronger, more ... demonic." I pause, remembering the way Cade rose up before us-how he and his creepy coyote tripled in size. "You're used to dealing with humans-bad humans, dark humans, but still humans. But Cade is not human. He's a psychopathic, demonic freak-the result of magick of the darkest kind. Driven by a pathetic need to impress Leandro by achieving world domination. Oh, and he can also turn into a scaly-skinned, snake-tongued monster at will. I know, because I've seen it, and let me tell you, it is not pretty. So, with that in mind, I hardly think pounding a drum and waving an eagle feather will do anything to stop him."

"Then what about Dace, his twin-is he human?" Paloma asks, her gaze on mine, her voice quiet and even.

"Of course he is!" I frown. Annoyed by the question. "He's good, and kind, and-"

"And yet, he's also the result of the dark magick you speak of."

I squirm under her gaze, not liking what she's getting at, even though I'm not entirely sure what that is.

"So you're saying that Dace is the human half of an inhuman twin? How can that be?" She waits for me to respond, but for once, I have nothing to say. My silence prompting her to add, "The world's greatest atrocities were committed by humans, nieta. Dark, deranged, misguided, egomaniacal humans-and yet humans all the same."

I continue to rub my thumb over the gauze, enjoying the cooling sensation the poultice provides. At the moment, it's the only thing I feel good about. "Listen, if he turns into a demon, then he's a demon." I nod. Hoping that'll put an end to the argument. But one look at Paloma, and a quick peek at Xotichl, tells me I've failed to convince.

"It's not quite that simple..." Xotichl pauses, tilting her head toward mine. "I'm sorry, Daire, but I have to side with Paloma on this one. Cade's energy patterns are not at all like that of the demons that guard the Rabbit Hole vortex."

"Maybe he's a different kind of demon," I say, barely giving her time to finish. "Maybe there's more than one breed."

Xotichl shakes her head. Toying with the hem of her sleeve, she drags it over her knuckles and down toward her fingertips. "A demon's energy is like electrical interference. It's frenetic and strange, with a vibration that's hard to contain. Cade's energy isn't like that. It's definitely human-darker than most, no doubt. It's extremely heavy and dense. But human all the same."

"But maybe you've only encountered him in human form," I say, realizing I've lost the argument the moment it's out. "Okay, yeah, I get it. Human form, which means he's human. Still, he's not a normal human, not even close." I sigh in surrender. Xotichl's blind sight is a formidable tool. It bears no bias-it merely states it like it is. Kind of like the pendulum.

"Are either one of you familiar with the legends of the Navajo skinwalkers?" Paloma asks, her eyes darting between us.

Xotichl squirms in her chair, reluctantly admitting she is, while I merely shrug. Having come across the word once or twice, but unable to grasp a clear idea of just exactly what it means.

"They are brujos and brujas." When she sees my blank look, she goes on to explain. "Evil witches and sorcerers, dark magicians who are able to take on the appearance of other forms."

"Like shape-s.h.i.+fters?" I ask, remembering the night I spied on Cade via the c.o.c.kroach. How he stripped off his clothes before his run with Coyote, which struck me as odd (not to mention disturbing). But before I could see anything more, he slammed his boot into me-er, the c.o.c.kroach-severing our bond. But now, I can't help but wonder if Cade was preparing to turn into a coyote? I sneak a peek at Xotichl, perplexed by the way she fidgets in her seat, as though she'd love nothing more than a change of subject.

"Similar, but not exactly." Paloma's fingers trace the rim of her cup. "They utilize animal hides, also known as magick skin. Draping themselves with the skin of the animal they seek to become allows them to complete the transformation and adopt many of the animal's characteristics, including the ability to travel great distances rather quickly. They're able to read minds, to climb inside a person's head and persuade them to cause great harm to others as well as themselves. It is said that a skinwalker can absorb themselves into one's body simply by locking eyes with their prey. They're often a.s.sociated with Coyote. Though whether or not Cade is an actual skinwalker I can't say for sure. What I can say is that from what you've told me, he, and probably other members of his clan, share the unique ability to transform. And we already know they excel at mind control to the point where they're able to alter perception. But the fact that he seems able to retain his human consciousness and ego-bound desires while he's in this altered state, tells me he's more of a halfling."

I stare hard at my finger, reminded of the moment Cade and I locked eyes at the Enchanted Springturned cesspool. How I felt him tug on my soul-siphon my energy. The thought makes me s.h.i.+ver.

"Only in Cade's case, he merely transforms into the physical manifestation of the true nature of his soul." Reading my confusion, she adds, "His soul is dark-when he transforms, he's merely exhibiting what lurks inside."

"Like turning himself inside out!" Xotichl grins, instantly grasping what I was still struggling with.

"So, does that mean Dace can turn into a rainbow, or an angel, or a dazzling white stallion with wings?" I ask, regretting the words the instant Xotichl cringes and Paloma shoots me a look.

"I've no doubt that Dace has the power to transform into something very powerful and good. Though I'm not sure he's discovered that yet," Paloma says.

I sigh in surrender, knowing they're right. Dace is good. Cade is evil. And yet they're equally human. Which means I've got to find another way to stop Cade. But at the moment, I have no idea how to begin.

"It's still two against one," I venture, hoping to find comfort in the thought. Then seeing their confusion, I add, "What I mean is, I'm mostly good. Dace is all good. And since we're in love, and since love always wins-since the light always shatters the dark-we're destined for victory, right?" I glance between them, only to watch Paloma push away from the table and head for a locked cupboard I'd never paid any real notice to until now.

Retrieving an ancient, leather-bound tome, she plunks it down before us, and says, "Why don't we consult the codex?"

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 ill.u.s.trator." 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 s.h.i.+ning 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 acc.u.mulate 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.s 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 hoa.r.s.e, 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 s.p.a.ce-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 c.o.c.ks 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.

desecration