My family and friends all relying on me to keep them from the same fate as my
abuela
.
But how can I possibly do that when the one person whose guidance I most depend on is no longer here?
“And, if you go very quiet, and listen with care, you just might hear his reply”
… Paloma’s voice sounds in my head.
If the words hold true for my father, then I can only assume they hold true for my grandmother as well. And now, more than ever, I need to hear her reply.
Need some proof she’s still with me.
I tilt my face skyward, desperate for answers.
Seeking guidance, an omen, or, at the very least, some hint of acknowledgment.
The clouds gather and spread.
Somewhere nearby a bird chirps, greeting the day.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a murder of crows bursts into sight. Soaring in slow perfect circles right over our heads.
“Your birth was heralded by crows,” Chay says, as a sniffling Jennika blows into her wadded-up tissue and nods to confirm it.
I keep my gaze trained on the birds, watching as a lone black figure breaks free of the flock.
This one bigger.
Its wingspan wider.
Its beak distinctly hooked.
And when it lets out a long, plaintive caw, the sound is guttural and deep.
A raven.
The thought confirmed by the single black feather that drifts from the sky and lands at my feet.
“It’s a sign,” Chay says, watching as I stoop to examine it. “An omen if there ever was one.”
I swallow hard, start to ask what it means, but the answer is clear.
With Paloma gone, I’m the last of the Santos.
It’s time for me to stand in her place.
Time for me to fly solo.
forty-six
Daire
With the last bit of dirt tossed onto the grave, it’s time to move on. While it’s tempting to linger, there’s no denying the truth of Paloma’s words. I shouldn’t confuse this place with her. She’s returned to her origins. She is now a part of everything.
We head for our cars with Chepi clutching at Dace, and Jennika clutching at me. And while I know she’s exhausted from the drive, and wracked with loss, while I know she longs to provide comfort, I’m not the daughter she left behind just two weeks ago. With Paloma gone, my responsibilities just multiplied tenfold, and it’s Dace I need most.
While it may be my turn to fly solo, Dace and I will face this together.
I hug my mother tightly to me. Comforted to know that Harlan is with her, that she’s giving him the chance he deserves. Then I draw away, promise to meet up later in the day, and follow Dace to his truck.
“Can we swing by the Rabbit Hole?” I ask, as he holds the door open and helps me inside. While I long to get to his apartment, while I can’t think of anything better than to spend the night huddled in the warm shelter of his arms, there’s another stop I need to make first.
He shoots me a curious look and slides in beside me. The truck humming to life after a few insistent turns of his key.
“I just need to see it one more time before sleep,” I tell him.
We’re more than halfway there when I remember the scene in the bathroom with Crickett and Jacy. So much has happened between now and then, I’d almost forgotten Crickett’s glimmering tourmaline pendant. How she claimed they were in the swag bags everyone got at the door.
“Dace…” My voice sounds smaller than I’d like as I state my concerns.
“You don’t think he’s going to try to kill everyone, do you?” Dace looks at me with hooded eyes, and a deeply creased brow. “What good would that do?”
I shake my head and squint into the distance, recognizing the truth of his words. But then I remember that strange look in Marliz’s eye every time she gazed at her brilliant blue tourmaline engagement ring.
“No,” I say. “I don’t think he’s trying to kill them. I think he’s found another way to control them. It’s just like Paloma’s book said—the tourmaline serves as a hook, providing the Richters a way to control the recipient’s energy.”
Dace looks at me with a gaze so weary, it’s clear neither of us will be fit to deal with much of anything if we don’t get some rest.
When he reaches the Rabbit Hole, he slows the truck to a crawl. Rolling past the smoldering remains of a building reduced to a burnt-out carcass of rubble.
“Do you think any Richters were among the casualties?” he asks, eyeing the trio of police cars parked out front—all the other emergency vehicles long gone. “Or, at the very least, Cade’s crazy Coyote?”
“I don’t know if we’re ever so lucky.” I frown, searching for signs of them, but mostly just seeing a building in ruins.
“Do you think they’ll rebuild?” Dace turns to me, places a hand on my knee.
“I have no doubt.” The sardonic grin that follows leaves a sour taste on my lips. “They may be defeated for now, but it won’t last. If I know one thing for sure, it’s just a matter of time before they regroup. And this time around promises to be far worse than any other that’s come before…” My voice fades along with the last remaining vestiges of night.
The sky blooms wide.
A new year has dawned.
And when Dace squeezes my knee and steers away from the club, I slide across the cracked leather seat until my thigh pushes up against his. Then I lean my head on his shoulder, and allow myself to fall into a deep dreamless sleep.
Don’t miss the magnificent final book in
The Soul Seeker Series
horizon
Coming November 2013
also by alyson noël
Everlasting
Night Star
Dark Flame
Shadowland
Blue Moon
Evermore
Whisper
Dreamland
Shimmer
Radiance
Cruel Summer
Saving Zoë
Kiss & Blog
Fly Me to the Moon
Laguna Cove
Art Geeks and Prom Queens
Faking 19
Fated
Echo
About the Author
Alyson Noël is the #1
New York Times
bestselling author of the Immortals series, the Riley Bloom series, and seven previous novels for St. Martin’s Press. She lives in Laguna Beach, California, where she is at work on her next book. Visit her on the Web at
www.alysonnoel.com
.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
MYSTIC.
Copyright © 2013 by Alyson Noël, LLC. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Cover design by Elsie Lyons
Cover photographs: girl © Oleg Gekman/
Shutterstock.com
; necklace © 3drenderings/
Shutterstock.com
; key © Feng Yu/
Shutterstock.com
; waterfalls © lkunl/
Shutterstock.com
; stars © Toria/
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; frame © eva105/
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The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Noël, Alyson.
Mystic / Alyson Noël.—First edition. (The Soul Seekers; 3)
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-312-57567-0 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-312-66488-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-02078-9 (e-book)
1. Supernatural—Fiction. 2. Soul—Fiction. 3. Dead—Fiction. 4. Love—Fiction. 5. Indians of North America—New Mexico—Fiction. 6. New Mexico—Fiction. I. Title.
PZ7.N67185Mys 2013
dc23
2013003450
eISBN 9781250020789
First Edition: May 2013