Fated (23 page)

“Aw, Paloma’s
nieta,
” he says, pronouncing the word perfectly, even though he doesn’t look the least bit Hispanic. Then again, neither do I, despite the fact that it constitutes a good bit of my bloodline. “I’m Auden, like the poet, named after the poet. So, how was day one? Did Xotichl show you the sights?”

“There are sights?” I joke, aware of the pang in my gut when he leans toward her, brushes her bangs from her eyes, and gazes upon her with such open admiration, I can’t help but look away.

It’s a shame she can’t see it. It’s the kind of look most girls can only dream about. But the way she meets it with a smile, the way she leans into his touch, it’s clear she wasn’t kidding about the blindsight, she doesn’t miss a thing. If anything, she’s reading the energy of it—of him. The energy so palpable, I can feel it back here.

“How long have you guys known each other?” I ask, trying to get the conversational ball rolling as Auden steers the big boat of a wagon away from the curb and onto the street.

“Forever,” he says. “I can’t remember a single day without her.”

Xotichl laughs, gives his shoulder a playful slap. Head tilted in my direction when she says, “We met last year. It was love at first sight. But unfortunately, my mom doesn’t quite see it that way. She doesn’t approve.”

I look at Auden, taking a quick mental inventory. He’s cute, sweet, and obviously lives to breathe the same air as Xotichl—what could possibly be the problem?

“I’m in a band … left high school early only to drop out of college…” Auden shrugs, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

“How old are you?” I ask, having assumed Xotichl was a junior like me, but maybe she’s older. Maybe he is too. This town has no shortage of illusions, that’s for sure.

“Seventeen—” He starts to continue, but Xotichl butts in.

“For the record, he’s a prodigy. Left Milagro at fifteen to go to the university. He’s being ridiculously humble,” she says, ruffling her hand through his hair.

“I was a full semester into it when I decided it wasn’t for me. I love music.” He shifts in his seat, looks at me. “I didn’t want to
study
music, I wanted to
create
music. Music and Xotichl—that’s my life—it’s all that I need.” He lifts his hand from the wheel, pulls her closer until their shoulders bump together.

“It’s all true, except the last part. He loves music more than me,” Xotichl says, squealing with delight when he leans in to kiss her, the sudden move causing the car to swerve slightly out of the lane before Auden rights it again.

“Never! You know it’s not true, take it back!” he says.

The two of them going at it with banter so cute, it’s all I can do to stay quiet and stare out the window. There’s just too much love in the room. Or car. Or station wagon. Or whatever. All I know is I’ve had a rough day, and while I’m happy to know that not everyone is as miserable as I am, I’m more than ready to be free of them.

“Daire’s had a bad day,” Xotichl tells him, pushing him back toward his side. “We need to tone it down, show a little sensitivity for her mood. She had an unfortunate run-in with the Cruel Crew.”

“Aw, the Three Faces of Evil,” Auden says, voice sympathetic when he adds, “That bites. Hope you kicked some Cruel Crew ass? You look like you could take ’em.” He peers at me again. “Well, the minions for sure, but maybe not Lita. You’re on the skinny side; Paloma got you on the same vegetarian diet she’s got my flower on?”

I squint, wondering why Paloma is telling Xotichl what to eat. I thought that sort of thing was reserved just for me.

“I’ve been seeing Paloma for a while, now,” Xotichl says, answering the question I didn’t yet voice. “She’s nothing short of a miracle worker. You’re so lucky to have her.”

I nod, neither confirming nor denying. I love Paloma. She’s helped me, cured me of the hallucinations, given me the keys to a world I never imagined existed. Though I’m not always sure that’s a good thing. Truth is, I was happier before the visions took over, before I got involved in any of this. My life was way less complicated back then.

A moment later, Auden pulls before the big blue gate, and Xotichl is turning in her seat, saying, “Auden’s band, Epitaph, is playing tonight at the Rabbit Hole and I—or rather,
we
—want you to come.”

The Rabbit Hole.

Paloma did say I’d have to return at some point, though I’m not sure I’m ready just yet. If the way I handled day one at Milagro is any indication, I have a long way to go ’til I’m ready to take on something like that.

They’re waiting for an answer. And knowing I need to say something, that Xotichl will not move on until I reply, I mumble, “I don’t know … I’ll have to check with Paloma…”

“Of course,” Xotichl says, already turning away. “First set’s at eight—see you then.”

twenty-eight

I head into the house. Doing my best to keep quiet in case Paloma’s with a client, I drop my bag onto my desk and flop onto my bed, reviewing the day’s events, but only for a moment, before I push them away.

All things considered, it was a bigger failure than even I thought it would be.

Paloma was confident.

Chay reassuring.

While I tried to keep my hopes somewhere within the realm of realistic, if not reasonable.

Still, as skeptical as I was, I truly thought I’d glide under the radar. I never imagined I’d be labeled a freak right from the start—only to go on to prove it to the one boy who was nice to me, even offered to lunch with me (in an indirect way).

Though it’s not like it matters. The link to his brother, the fact that they’re twins—identical at that—instantly places him in the no-fly zone, no matter how cute he may be.

I kick off my shoes—a pair of soft black ankle boots I picked up in Spain—knowing I should make a stab at doing my homework but ruling it out just as quickly. Fact is, I’ve already read the assigned book for English, and I solved the math equations well before I left class. As far as history and science are concerned, I’m pretty sure I can wing it. Turns out I learned more in Internet school than I realized. Either that or my new school is completely pathetic.

I haul myself up, lean back against my headboard, and decide to work on something more useful, like magick. Merging my energy with the dream catcher that hangs over the window, focusing hard as I
feel
the lilt of its feathers, the light
sway
of its fringe—watching as it lifts itself from the hook, hovers for a moment, and then makes its way toward me …

“
Nieta
?” Paloma knocks once before opening the door and peering inside, her sudden arrival prompting me to slam the dream catcher between my palms and shove it deep under my pillow where she can’t see it.

My breath coming too fast, my cheeks flushing red, having no good reason to hide it from her, and yet doing so anyway.

Though I should’ve known better. Paloma’s gaze is all-seeing. Glancing between the empty hook over the sill and me, she says “So, tell me, how was your first day at school?”

I sigh. Shake my head. My eyes meeting hers when I say, “Terrible.” Figuring there’s no use lying, no point in pouring a thick coating of sugar over it. But just after I’ve said it, I realize the word may have been a bit overstated. It wasn’t
all
bad. While Xotichl and Auden were definitely a little heavy on the lovefest—meeting them was still one of the brighter spots.

The other bright spot was Dace, though I’m not quite ready to admit that—or at least not in that way.

Paloma sits beside me, the mattress dipping ever so slightly under the weight of her tiny frame. “So, your first day was so horrible you chose to fortify your ego with magick?” She thrusts her hand before me, demanding the return of the dream catcher we both know I hid. And though her words seem judgmental on the surface, her eyes tell a whole other story—they’re brimming with compassion, letting me know she understands all too well.

I slip my fingers under the pillow and hand over the goods, watching as she moves toward the window and puts the dream catcher back in its place, as I say, “I met Cade. Again.”

She nods. Flicks a finger against the dream catcher’s fringe, watching it sway back and forth. “And?” She turns to face me.

“
And,
if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was devastatingly handsome and utterly charming. I’d think I was the luckiest girl in the world to have a boy like that notice me. But since I do know better, he just gives me the creeps.”

“Good.” She nods. “No matter what happens, you must never forget that.”

I gaze down at my hands. Pick at a loose string on my blanket. “I met Dace too, and he’s just like he is in the dreams. And every time I try to get an impression of him…”

Paloma returns to the bed, where she sits at the foot.

“Well, the impression is always …
good.
It’s the opposite of Cade, and I need to know more about him. We have a class together, so there’s no way to avoid him, though I’m not sure how to handle him.”

She nods, folds her hands in her lap, eyes flashing when she says, “Dace is
not
your enemy.” She pauses, allowing the words to sink in. “The reason I warned you about Cade and not Dace is because Cade is the one you must watch. Don’t ever forget that,
nieta.
And never confuse the two, no matter what.” She rubs her hands over her dress, fidgets with the hem, then after rising from the bed, she heads for the dresser, where she stands before Django’s picture and says, “I didn’t tell you earlier because…”

I clutch my pillow and wait—wait for something to happen, for some big revelation. But for a while anyway, all I get is a view of her back.

“They’re only identical on the surface.” She sighs, the sound heavy and deep, belying some hidden meaning she’s not sure she’ll reveal. “They were raised separately, didn’t meet until their first year of high school. Cade grew up with his father, Leandro—while Dace was raised by his mother, Chepi. They’ve had very different upbringings, which makes for very different views of the world.”

“Why were they raised separately? Why didn’t they at least know about each other? This town is so tiny—how’s that even possible?” I ask, knowing she’s hiding something, though I can’t imagine why, much less what.

She clasps and unclasps her hands, debating whether or not to tell me, then she takes a deep breath and says, “Dace grew up on the reservation—he and Chepi rarely left—while Cade lived in town. His father’s family, the Richters, are quite wealthy, they own most of the businesses here and run all the public services, not to mention his father’s been mayor for many, many years. Chepi had nothing to do with their world. When she found herself pregnant with the twins, she was the beautiful young daughter of a well-respected medicine man named Jolon—a truly revered, much-sought-after healer, who was said to work miracles and have a direct link to the divine.”

“So, let me get this straight.” I look at her. “Chepi, the good girl, decides to hook up with Leandro, the bad boy—trouble ensues—she gets knocked up—the news devastates her father who held such high hopes for her…” I frown, trying not to judge, but it sounds like the Django and Jennika story. Except Jennika was never what you’d call
good,
and Django wasn’t all that
bad
; still, the stories aren’t without their similarities.

But before I can finish, Paloma’s already shaking her head, saying, “No,
nieta,
it’s not nearly as simple as that. You see, Chepi was very young, very innocent, and very devoted to Jolon. She never would’ve gone off with Leandro on her own. She was studying as Jolon’s apprentice, and many say she showed great promise. Everyone assumed she’d succeed him someday—but Leandro interfered, making sure to derail all their plans.” She looks at me, gaze clouded with memory. “Leandro is very much the opposite of Jolon. He’s a dangerous sorcerer who hails from a long line of them. The Santoses have been battling the Richters for years … centuries really, and not always here. While we made very good progress for a very long time, while we were able to subdue them and keep them in line, in more recent years, with the arrival of Leandro, things have changed for the worse. They’re no longer happy with just amassing their fortune—their ambitions extend far beyond that. They’re changing this town. It wasn’t always so
depressed,
like it is now. It used to be a good match for its name—if you can imagine such a thing. But over the past few decades it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep them contained. They’ve messed with so many minds—the townspeople feel alternately awed by them and indebted to them. And without Django’s help, I’m afraid I’m no match for them on my own, their ranks are too strong.” She takes a deep breath—runs both hands over the lap of her dress. “Anyway, Leandro was determined to use Chepi for his own sordid purposes, and so, on the night of
Día de los Muertos,
he set out to find her, and from that moment on, life as she knew it was over.”

Reading my look of confusion, she says, “The Day of the Dead,
nieta.
It’s a ritual that’s been celebrated for thousands of years, traced all the way back to the Aztecs. It’s a time when the veil between the living and dead is lifted, as well as a time to honor all those who’ve passed. Here in Enchantment, we celebrate it in place of Halloween, and the whole town takes part. People don masks resembling skulls—they head to cemeteries where they decorate the graves with marigolds, beads, and old photos. And they remain by those graves throughout the night—dancing, drinking, turning the dirt, and communing with their deceased loved ones. Though lately, over the last several years, many have abandoned the graveyards in favor of the Rabbit Hole, which, as you know, the Richters own.”

I stare at her wide-eyed, urging her to continue. It’s the first I’ve ever heard of it, and I’m fascinated by the idea.

“There was a time when death wasn’t viewed so much as the end of life but rather a continuation of life. It was life that was regarded as a brief fleeting dream, while death allowed one to truly wake up. The Bone Keeper presides over the festival. She rules the lowest level of the Lowerworld where she keeps watch over the bones. They say she has a skull for a face, wears a skirt made of serpents, and her mouth is extra wide in order to feed off the stars during the day. And yet, despite my numerous journeys to the Lowerworld, I have yet to run into her. But maybe you will,
nieta,
who knows?”