Soul Seekers03 - Mystic (8 page)

“I don’t believe Dace is dead,” Xotichl says. “I don’t care what they say. I think I would’ve felt it.”

“I know
I
would’ve felt it,” I say, struggling to rise once again.

“
Nieta,
please.” Paloma tries to force me back onto the cushions as Lita shoots a dubious look toward my dress.

Oh, right. The dress.

With a firm but loving hand placed on each of my shoulders, Paloma looks at me and says, “
Nieta,
listen—I understand you’re upset, and you have every reason to feel the way you do. But the problem is, you’re acting on pure emotion and fear, and that will never lead to anything good. If you want to find Dace, if you want to
help
Dace, you’ll need to set your emotions aside long enough to take the proper steps to come up with a plan.”

“And what would those proper steps be?” I ask, surprised by the soothing effect of her touch, her voice, the undeniable wisdom she speaks.

“First you will use the time it takes me to prepare a proper poultice and a light meal, to rest your weary body and calm your frantic mind. Then, after you’ve eaten and I’ve tended to your wound, I will prepare some things for your trip.”

“My trip?” I look at her, having no idea what she’s referring to.

“If you want to find Dace, you’ll have to return to the last place you saw him. Am I correct in assuming that would be the Lowerworld?” At the slightest tip of my head, she says, “I will drive you to the vortex. But first things first.”

Paloma turns away, makes for her office, as Xotichl says, “I’m going with you.”

“Me too!” Lita echoes. “I’ll start by digging the Jeep out of the snow.” Before anyone can stop her, she races for the door. Shooting me a look over her shoulder, she adds, “And speaking of, when you get a chance, can you please make it stop snowing? Now that you’re back, it seems a little redundant.”

eleven

Daire

Paloma’s old white Jeep bucks and jumps over the poorly lit, deeply rutted dirt roads as she cuts through the reservation and heads for the grove of wildly twisted juniper trees marking the vortex.

“It’s not too late to bail.” I swivel toward my friends huddled into the small space in back, deciding to give them one last chance to opt out. “And trust me, if you’re smart, you will.”

“I’m not smart.” Xotichl turns to Lita.

“Nope, me neither,” Lita echoes, busily inspecting the ends of her hair. “Dumb as a doorknob, in fact.”

I glance at Paloma, and seeing her nod of approval, I say, “Okay, but just to be clear, the journey is extremely unpleasant. And Xotichl, you’ll have to leave your cane since it involves tunneling through deep layers of dirt. And while it doesn’t actually take all that long, the first time feels like forever. You can’t breathe, can’t see … oh, and did I mention the worms?”

Xotichl shrugs, flips her ponytail over her shoulder, and says, “Bring it.”

As Lita steadies her gaze on mine, and replies, “I’m not exactly the princess you take me for. I don’t mind getting a little dirty now and then.”

Paloma parks just shy of the trees, turns to me, and says, “I will wait here until you return.”

I try to protest, telling her I have no idea how long it will take, and how worried I am by her weakened appearance, but she’s not having it.

“Do not worry for me,
nieta.
Keep your focus on the task at hand. The Lowerworld is not as you left it. Though much like Xotichl, you don’t need to rely on your vision to see.” She hugs me tightly to her chest, and despite her frail state, her touch fills me with enough strength to lead my friends toward the trees with more confidence than I feel.

“Just follow me, and do what I do,” I tell them. “And no matter how tempted you might be, do
not
try to stop the fall, or worse, claw your way up. It never works, and it’ll just make the trip take that much longer. Allow the fall to happen naturally, without resistance. And the second you sense the first hint of light at the end of the tunnel, try to curl your body into as tight a ball as you can. It really helps to cushion the landing, which can be a little rough.”

I glance behind me, and seeing they’re not the least bit inhibited by my warnings, I launch myself forward. Aware of them falling behind, one by one, as we’re swallowed deep into the earth, before landing in a hard bank of snow with Lita flailing beside me in a crazy tangle of limbs, as Xotichl exits last, rolling to a stop just as I coached.

“You really weren’t kidding about the dirt.” Lita brushes her hands against her knees and begins plucking pebbles and twigs and assorted debris from her hair.

“Or the worms.” Xotichl straightens her coat as I help her to her feet. “I felt one skim right past my cheek. Luckily it was gone before I had a chance to properly freak.”

I squint against the glare and take a good look around, unable to determine just where we’ve landed since all of the usual landmarks are covered with a heavy dusting of snow, with more accumulating each passing minute. Paloma was right about it not looking at all like I left it. Hopefully the snow-stopping ritual I worked just before leaving her house will begin to kick in without too much delay.

“So, this is the Lowerworld.” I glance at my friends. “What do you think?”

Lita places her hands on her hips and takes a good look around. “Well, I’m sure it’s really nice. But at the moment, there’s so much snow, it looks a lot like Enchantment.”

“Trust me, underneath the snow it’s far more beautiful than Enchantment.” I shove my hands under my armpits in an effort to warm them, and continue to survey the area. Dismayed to find it absent of spirit animals, including Raven who’s usually waiting to greet my arrival.

Have the animals been forced into hibernation because of the snow?

“Is it always like this?” Xotichl asks.

“No.” I frown, not liking what I see. “While I’ve never visited in the dead of winter, I’m sure this place doesn’t change seasons. Before Cade corrupted it, it pretty much existed in a state of eternal spring. The flowers were forever in bloom, the grass was lush and green. Like golf course grass, only better.” I sigh at the memory. “But despite Cade turning it into a wasteland, last I saw, just before I left, it was definitely returning to its usual springlike state once again.”

“Since this is where our spirit animals live, do you think we might meet them?” Xotichl’s face is lit with the possibility of meeting Bat who’s been guiding her since the day she was born, and I hate to disappoint her.

“I was hoping they’d be waiting for us. They usually are,” I tell her. “But with all of this cold and snow, I can only assume that they’re hibernating.”

And since they can’t guide us if they’re sleeping, that can’t be a good thing.

Though I’m careful to keep my concerns to myself. No use worrying my friends when I’m merely speculating without any proof.

“So normally I would see Opossum down here?” Lita twirls a long chunk of hair around a mitten-covered finger.

I nod, but the truth is, I’m so distracted with trying to determine which way to go, the question barely registers.

“So, if Opossum were here, I could actually meet him and he wouldn’t even try to bite me?” she asks, as though she can hardly imagine such a thing.

“Yes, Lita. You and your red-eyed Opossum would frolic through the forest just like they do in Disney movies.” Xotichl laughs.

“That is not at all charming.” Lita frowns. “I mean, why can’t I have a cuter spirit animal? Something adorable and cuddly, like a bunny? Or even something cool, like a fox?” Then realizing what she just said, she looks around and in a raised voice says, “Just kidding! No offense! Love you, Opossum!”

I move ahead of my friends. Hoping to hide my confusion about which direction to take when nothing appears as I left it. I cup my hand to my brow and glance all around, as Xotichl and Lita chatter behind me in a way so distracting I’m just about to say something I’ll no doubt live to regret, when I force myself to choke back the words and see the situation from their point of view.

Everyone has their own way of handling stress. Some go inward, like me. Some reach outward, like them. And despite the dire circumstances we face, they must feel pretty excited to transcend the known world for one that most people don’t even realize exists. It’s the enormity of the task that’s making me grumpy, not them. Not to mention how the abundance of snow and cold is starting to grate.

Did I really cause all of this? Was my dying wish fulfilled to a ridiculous degree?

“Even though the nonstop snow-a-thon is kind of annoying, it does offer a sort of stark, quiet beauty, doesn’t it?” Xotichl’s voice drifts from behind me, and it’s enough to knock me right out of my thoughts.

Lita and I whirl toward her, our voices overlapping as we cry, “Xotichl—can you
see
it?”

Her beautiful heart-shaped face lifts into a grin.

“For real?” Lita stands wide-eyed before her.

“Don’t get too excited.” Xotichl laughs, pushing Lita lightly on the arm, until she’s moving again. “I can’t see it in the same way you can. But I can make out all of the lines and curves and shapes and shadows in a way I’ve never been able to before. Usually all I can see are the colorful energy patterns that people and objects emit. But this—well, this is something else entirely.”

“Good to know this place has managed to hang onto its magick,” I say, exchanging a look of astonishment with Lita as I trudge a few steps ahead, and Lita begins to grill Xotichl. Insisting she describe everything she sees in great detail.

When I stop to get my bearings, Lita comes up alongside me and says, “I hope you’re not upset because we’re talking so much when we should be looking for Dace.” Her large brown eyes droop at the sides. “It’s just—it’s so exciting with Xotichl being able to see and all…”

I shake my head and look all around.

“Then what is it?” she asks. “Are we here?”

I clamp my lips together and swallow a sigh. Not wanting my friends to know just how lost we really are.

“Do we even know where
here
is?” She shoots me a hopeful look.

“We’re headed for the last place I saw him—the Enchanted Spring.”

“And what do we do when we get there?” Xotichl asks.

Trying to drum up more confidence than I feel, I turn to them, and say, “I’m hoping one of us will be able to intuit something from the energy left over from the event.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Lita wears a skeptical look.

“Everything is energy,” Xotichl says. “Paloma taught me that, but you’ll also learn it in science class. And energy is eternal. It can never be destroyed.”

“But it can be transformed.” I look at them. “That’s how I made it snow. Simple alchemy—the transference of energy.” I start walking again, veering slightly to the left and hoping it works.

“Simple, huh?” Lita trudges behind me. “Maybe for you guys, but not for someone like me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Xotichl says. “It’s not as hard as it seems, you just have to grasp the concept. Anyway, since energy never dies, theoretically speaking, the same should hold true for the energy of events.”

“And Paloma taught you this?”

“She’s taught me all kinds of things. But most importantly, she taught me how to read the energetic vibration of both inanimate objects and all living things.”

“So, all this time you could see my energy?” Lita asks, and it’s clear from her tone she’s not sure how to feel about that.

“Yes. And in case you’re wondering, it’s a sight to behold.” Xotichl laughs.

“Anyway,” I say, eager to get back on track. “The idea is that every act leaves a permanent imprint upon the space in which it took place. Though acts that were committed with a lot of emotion—fraught with anger, fear, sadness, or even love—leave the strongest impressions behind. So, surely an act like Cade killing me and whatever happened afterward should bear a strong imprint as well.”

“But how exactly will we see it?” Lita asks, running up alongside me. “Will we watch it play out before us like a giant hologram or something?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I can’t say for sure since I’ve never done it before. All I know is that if the ancient Mystics and modern-day scientists are right, the event should still be here, repeating itself.”

“Different people
see
in different ways,” Xotichl says. “And some will never see it at all.”

“But just exactly what are the different ways of seeing?” Lita asks.

“It might appear in actual images or colors representing those images.” Xotichl shrugs. “It might be in voices and sounds. The important thing is to rid yourself of preconceived ideas and self-doubt, and just let it unfold.”

“But even if you do see something, how can you tell if it’s real? I mean, how do you determine that you’re watching an actual event reenacting itself, and not some crazy hallucination or mirage or illusion? Isn’t it possible to get so caught up in remembering what went down, that you start seeing stuff that’s not really there?”

“It’s a good question,” Xotichl starts.

“But you have an answer for that as well?” Lita laughs.

“I do indeed.” Xotichl grins. “A mirage is the result of refracted light—or the bending of light. A hallucination is when you see things that aren’t really there. While an illusion is like a magic trick—a deceptive appearance.”

“But, according to that definition, none of those things are really there.”

“Most people never actually see what’s really there. They only see the obvious—they never look beyond the veil.” Xotichl shrugs.

“If you don’t look, you can’t see,” I say, tossing in my two cents.

“Are you guys purposely trying to confuse me?”

Xotichl laughs. “Anyway, if that doesn’t work, Paloma’s been working with me on psychometry, so I can try that as well.”

“And that is?”