Soul Seekers03 - Mystic (9 page)

“The ability to read the energy imprints left on objects. It can be pretty intense. So, I don’t know, maybe I can touch a rock or something, and see what I get.”

Lita shakes her head. Looking at me when she says, “Can you do that too?”

I stop before a grove of trees with stark trunks and barren branches—their formation the only thing that’s familiar. “The most important thing Paloma ever taught me is that a Seeker must learn to see in the dark, trusting what she knows in her heart.”

Lita squints, places a hand on her hip. “So basically what you’re saying is that although you pack a heavy arsenal of mad magick skills, in the end, you go with your gut?”

“Never steers me wrong.” I lift my shoulders and rise up on my toes in an effort to see what lies beyond.

“If you’re saying that to make me feel better, it worked. You two can be a little intimidating, what with all of your big-time mystical gifts.”

“Everyone has mystical gifts,” Xotichl says. “You just have to believe in them, trust them, and hone them.”

Lita starts to reply, but I cut her off when I say, “I think this is it.”

I race before them. The treads of my boots leaving deep tracks in the snow as I duck through the trees and into the clearing with my friends right behind me. Xotichl gets right to work. Rubbing her hands together as she stoops toward the ground in a search for pebbles, rocks, something to get a read from, as Lita stands shivering beside me.

“Where exactly did it happen?” Xotichl places a rock in the center of her palm, and rolls it from side to side before discarding it for another.

I move to the place where Cade shoved the athame into my heart and spread my arms wide. “Somewhere around here.” I close my eyes in an attempt to get a better feel for the space. And that’s when I realize for the first time since I arrived that it’s not just Raven who’s absent. The air is so still it seems my element Wind has abandoned me too.

Yet the Enchanted Spring is still there. Its waters cooled by the snow, but hopefully its magick still holds. I kneel down beside it and immerse both my hands, filling my palms with water I use to cleanse the wound at my chest. My friends’ murmuring voices fading into the background as I silently state my intentions. Reminded of what Paloma said about it being magick’s most important ingredient.

I intend to heal and empower myself.

I intend to uncover the truth of what happened here after I left.

I intend for that truth to lead me to Dace.

And once Dace is safe, I intend to confront Cade—and this time, I intend to kill him.

My reverie broken by Xotichl calling to me, “Daire—I think you better come see this.”

twelve

Daire

Xotichl stands before me, the hilt of a bloody knife grasped in both hands.

My blood.

My knife.

The one Cade used against me.

Her hands begin to tremble, and soon after, the rest of her follows. The sight of her head lolling from side to side, prompting Lita to shriek, “Is she okay? Should we do something to help her?” Her eyes search mine, desperate for guidance.

“Don’t touch her,” I warn, slowly creeping toward Xotichl as Lita scrambles out of the way. “She’ll be okay. She’s just
seeing
, that’s all.” I clamp my lips together and hope that it’s true.

Xotichl’s breath grows increasingly agitated. Her body violently shudders. And I’m just about to intervene when the knife slips from her fingers and lands in a thud at our feet.

Lita squeals.

Xotichl lifts her face to mine and in a steady voice says, “It’s all there. I could tell you if you want, but I think you should see it for yourself.”

I hold my open palm above the athame and focus hard on the hilt, but the knife remains stubbornly in place. Guess the days spent in the sickbed have left my telekinesis a bit rusty. With no other choice, I retrieve it the old-fashioned way, by kneeling and closing my fingers around it. The contact of flesh on wood is enough to instantly trigger a cache of stored images to storm through my head.

My battle with Cade, fading into the moment Dace appeared. Only he wasn’t the same. His eyes no longer glinting, no longer reflecting, they looked just like Cade’s—a dull, fathomless abyss, absorbing instead of reflecting.

It’s temporary,
Dace claimed.
Not to worry
.

He did it for us—did it to save me.

To save
me
.

When all of this time it was me who was meant to save
him.

Like most souls, mine is comprised of both light and dark, while Dace’s is preternaturally pure.

It was his light that was destined to die.

I rub my lips together, tighten my grip, and ready myself for the part that comes next. The moment it all falls apart. With Cade in demon form, and Coyote doubled in size, Dace and I were outmatched.

Only this time, when Axel whisks me high into the sky, I’m able to watch what I couldn’t before.

Raven flying after us, trailing for a very long distance, until he came across some kind of barrier and was forced to turn back.

Dace slamming the athame into himself without hesitation. Willing to pay the ultimate price in order to keep his twin from destroying the world.

It’s not until Lita’s hands clasp tightly over mine, and Xotichl yells, “Don’t let her drop it! There’s still more to see!” that I realized I screamed.

And now with Lita and me both holding the knife, she’s able to see what I see.

Dace and Cade collapsed in a heap, their souls newly released. Only to have Coyote catch Cade’s in his snout and force it back into him, while allowing Dace’s to drift free.

Cade wakes with a sputter and instantly turns on his brother. “Get him out of here,” he commands Coyote. “Take him to the darkest recess of the Middleworld where no one will find him. He’s of no use to me now.”

Lita curses under her breath as we watch Coyote grab Dace by the collar and drag him away, while Cade, still gravely wounded but breathing, inches his body toward the Enchanted Spring, where he rolls into the water and emerges renewed.

Lita drops her hands, leaving me to hold the knife on my own. Her voice small, overwhelmed, she says, “What now? Where do we go from here?”

I open my eyes and lower the athame to my side. “First we find Dace. Then we restore his soul. And once that’s done, I’ll find a way to deal with Cade, once and for all.”

thirteen

Daire

On our return to Enchantment, I’m surprised to find the sun is already up and Paloma is still there, only this time with company. All of the elders: Chay, Chepi, Leftfoot, and Cree, Leftfoot’s apprentice, are all waiting for us. Their assorted trucks, Jeeps, and horses circling the site, as they huddle against the cold and keep a steady vigil.

Paloma calls to me the second she sees me emerge from the trees, but it’s Dace’s mother, Chepi, who gets to me first. Her eyes red-rimmed, her face pale and drawn, she looks as though she’s aged twenty years in the short time I’ve been gone.

“You found him! Please tell me you found him!” She grasps my shoulders too tightly, refusing to loosen her grip until Leftfoot places his hands over hers and gently pries her away.

“Give the girl a moment.” He slides a supportive arm around her. Attempting to comfort and keep her contained.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. Turning my attention to Chepi, I say, “I’m sorry but we didn’t quite find him. Not yet, anyway.” Forcing myself to hold her gaze, despite the accusation I read on her face.

She holds me responsible. Or at least partially. It’s all right there in the hardened glint in her stare. Her belief that her son was never in danger until I came to town and this whole mess began. And while it’s true that my arrival got the ball rolling, the truth is, with his connection to Cade, Dace has been in danger since the day he was born.

She steps closer, leaving only a breath of space spanning between us. “What do you mean when you say,
not yet
?”

“I know he’s in the Middleworld. In a dimension other than this one. I just don’t know where. But he’s alive. I know for a fact he’s alive.”

Her shoulders sink in relief, and I know what she’s thinking:
Where there’s life, there’s hope.
It’s the same thought I cling to.

“But you should also know that he’s soulless.” I rub my lips together, hating to be the one to tell her, but she deserves to know the truth. “I need to locate him quickly.” I turn my attention to Leftfoot, Cree, Paloma, and Chay, their faces displaying equal alarm at what I’ve revealed. “And then, once that’s done, I need to locate his soul.”

“He’ll die if you don’t get to him soon!” Chepi cries. “Look what happened to Paloma when her soul was lost! Why are you just standing here? Why aren’t you out there searching for him?”

“He won’t die,” I say, aware that it’s a promise one should never make to a grief-stricken mother. The delicate balance between life and death is always tricky at best. Still, it’s a promise I make to us both. “This is nothing like what happened to Paloma. From what I saw, he’s gravely wounded, which means he’ll be physically weakened, for sure. But the twins are connected, and as long as Cade lives, Dace lives. As long as Cade breathes, Dace breathes, no matter how labored.” I pause, allowing her to digest the words until they make sense. Until they become solid enough for her to hold on to. “But that also means, and you all need to hear this—” I make a point to glance at each of them before I continue. “The Cade Richter kill order is suspended until further notice. No one makes a move on him until I get this thing sorted.” My tone bears the burden of that horrible truth. “While I never thought I’d say this, we need to do whatever it takes to keep Cade alive. Controlled and contained, but alive. Once Dace is taken care of, and only then, I have every intention of eliminating Cade, not to worry. But no sooner.”

A low whistle escapes Chay’s lips, as Leftfoot says, “Any idea where to look?”

“Coyote dumped him somewhere deep in the Middleworld—somewhere dark, bleak, and ominous where there’s no risk of anyone finding him. No one but me, anyway.”

“And me!” Xotichl says. And not to be outdone, Lita chimes in as well.

I turn to my friends, tempted to say
thanks but no thanks.
Remind them that it’s not their battle to win. But the fact is, it’s everyone’s battle. Everyone here has something at stake. I may be the only Seeker, I may be the only one with the actual skills to see this thing through, but that doesn’t mean I can’t accept a little help now and then.

“You can start by hanging with me at the Rabbit Hole tonight,” I tell them, hoping to appease Chepi’s look of disdain when I add, “There’s an entrance that leads to a much deeper dimension of the Middleworld, and I’ll need someone to cover so I can get to it. But first, I need to go home, get some provisions, and come up with a plan. After all, you can’t hit a target you can’t even see, right?” I start to grin, until I realize I just quoted Axel and a shiver slips over my skin.

fourteen

Xotichl

I bounce my knee against the door of Lita’s car, debating how best to phrase what I’m about to ask. Deciding I may as well state it like it is, I say, “I know this may sound crazy—” Not getting very far before Lita cuts in.

“Doubtful,” she says. “After what I’ve seen,
crazy
just got a whole new definition. I had no idea there was all this insanity happening right under my nose. And to think of all that time I wasted on Cade…”

“Lita—” I’m quick to interrupt before she can go any further. “You have to let it go. Seriously. It’s finished. O-V-E-R. And it wasn’t your fault. You were literally under his spell.”

“You telling me to move on?” Her tone is amused.

“No, the fact that you left him means you already moved on. I’m telling you to take all of that energy you waste in chastising yourself, and channel it toward more useful endeavors.”

“I would.” She breathes an exaggerated sigh. “But Daire said we can’t kill Cade. Or at least not yet, anyway.”

We burst into laughter, both of us buoyed by the assurance that the very worst is behind us. Daire is back. Dace is alive. Whatever comes next can only pale in comparison.

“Still,” I venture. “I have an idea…”

“I’m listening…”

“Okay, this is the crazy part, but—you know that church, the one where Phyre’s dad preaches?”

“I’ll tell you right now I don’t like where this is going.” Her energy alters, becoming increasingly agitated, as she fidgets in her seat. And since the magick of the Lowerworld is still with me, it appears as a bundle of frenetic, Lita-shaped curves and shadows that repeatedly contract and expand. But I keep that bit to myself. Wanting to see if it lasts before I share the news with my friends.

“Just hear me out.” I face the side window, watching as a series of light boxy forms stream past, which I assume are the adobe-style homes most of us live in. “While I get that you don’t like the idea, I think we should go there.”

She slows into a turn. “You’re joking, right?” When I fail to respond, she says, “You actually want to go to that cardboard pulpit he calls a church?” She shakes her head in a way that emits a stream of energy so chaotic and streaky, I have to bite back a laugh. “Why would you ask me to do that? What reason could you possibly have? Do you secretly hate me? Is this your revenge for all of those years when I acted like a total bitch even though, as I recently discovered, it wasn’t my fault? Because I thought you were above that sort of thing, Xotichl. I really did.” She pauses for breath and I’m just about to speak, when she starts up again. “I mean, we’re talking Suriel Youngblood—the snake-wrangling zealot. The same crazy freak who was always preaching about the Apocalypse, or Armageddon, or the Last Days or whatever he calls them, back when we were kids. He scared the crap out of me the day he barged into the hair salon and started screaming about vanity being one of the seven sins and setting fire to all of the fashion magazines. What was supposed to be a special mother/daughter day of bonding, ended up giving me nightmares for years. Even as the cops were hauling him away, he kept right on preaching. That’s how big of a lunatic he is. And just so we’re clear, all of this is a very long-winded way of saying, sorry, but no. No way. Hell no. He’s a freak and he gives me the heebs.”