The Soul Seeker: Echo Part 7

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.

G.o.d 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 circ.u.mstance 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 sc.r.a.ps I managed to overhear-since everyone seems to think I need protecting, that I need to be s.h.i.+elded 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.

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 t.i.tles 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 s.h.i.+pping 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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sion, 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."

fifteen.

Dace The last person I expect to see when I enter my mom's house is Leftfoot. Yet, there he is, sitting at her kitchen table, hunched over a steaming mug of freshly brewed pinon coffee. Caught in midconversation when he says, "... simply vanished. But we know that's not true."

He shoots Chepi a meaningful look, as her face goes grim in a way I don't often see. The two of them so lost in thought, it's a moment before they notice me.

"Dace!" My mother leaps to her feet, her expression arranging to one I can't read. Is it guilt-surprise-reproach? Before I can decide, she's rus.h.i.+ng toward me, folding me into her arms and brus.h.i.+ng a hand over my hair.

I return the hug. Clutch her tightly to me, then gently pry myself free. My gaze darting between them, I say, "I need answers."

"Why aren't you at school?" Chepi's large brown eyes narrow on mine. Attempting to deflect a conversation she'd prefer not to have. "Winter Break starts next week."

"Mother, please." My voice is as strained as the expression I wear on my face as I claim the empty chair between them, unwilling to play this particular game. "It's time you leveled with me and told me the truth."

Leftfoot mumbles something about needing to leave. But before he can get very far, I say, "As it happens, I need you here too."

He locks eyes with me and returns to his seat. Directing his words to my mother, he says, "Chepi, it's time. You can't avoid this day forever."

Chepi kneads the table with hands calloused from years of jewelry making-the turquoise and silver pieces once coveted by galleries and tourists alike. But over the last decade, the galleries have all closed, and Enchantment has fallen way off the tourist path. Forcing her to make frequent trips to Santa Fe, where she hawks her wares in the plaza, trying to keep us afloat.

"I know what happened to you on the Day of the Dead," I begin, hoping to spare her from reliving that h.e.l.l. "I know what Leandro did. I know what I am, what Cade is, and how we were made. I know you were not at all responsible for what happened to you. I know how hard it must've been for you to look at me for the last sixteen years-"

"No!" Her hand finds mine, squeezing with surprising force when she says, "Don't you believe it-it's not at all true!"

I free myself from her grip, rock my chair back until it's balanced on two legs. An act that always resulted in a disapproving look followed by a verbal reprimand when I was a child but goes unnoticed today.

"You are my son. I have never once regretted bearing you. You were destined to come to me." Her fingers twist nervously.

Destined. Yes. I study my hands, deciding what to say next.