Soul Seekers03 - Mystic (20 page)

“Funny how just a few weeks ago, Suriel’s quest to kill Cade would’ve made him an ally.” Dace’s tone is light, but when I crick my neck to face him, his expression is serious.

“And now it makes him a threat.” My voice is somber, as my gaze moves over him. “Why do you think Phyre didn’t kill you when she had the chance?”

“I don’t know.” He rubs a hand over his chin, squints into the distance. “I guess no matter how much her father has managed to influence her, deep down inside she’s still a good and decent person who knows right from wrong.” He looks at me then, shoulders heavy with remorse when he says, “Look, Daire, I know I should be angry at her for putting me in jeopardy, but I can’t. Back when I knew her, she was a sweet, normal, kind of sad kid. I guess I feel sorry for her now, just like I did then. She was ostracized, treated cruelly, all because of her father’s insanity. The kids at school made a point to avoid her and her sisters. They never had one single friend. Then, when her mother disappeared and her sisters left to live with their aunt … well, I guess after being isolated with only Suriel for so long, the world finally broke her until he was able to effectively brainwash her.” He wipes a hand across his brow and shakes his head, as though releasing himself from the hold of the past. “Look!” he says, arcing a hand toward the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, as we watch in silent awe as the sun’s ascent washes the rugged peaks in a glorious coating of pink.

“Chepi taught me that all of nature—the sun, the moon, those mountains—all of it knows you from the time you were just an idea. That we’re all cells with different purposes, yet we are all connected—existing to serve each other as well as the whole. Too bad Suriel never listened to Chepi. He divides the world into the righteous versus the sinners. As if it could ever be so clearly defined. Everyone straddles the balance between light and dark.”

Everyone but you. Or at least the former version of you. Before you adopted your brother’s worst attribute.

I study his profile as he tracks the sunrise. His features are both soft and sharp, sculptural and beautiful. As long as I avoid looking into his eyes, I can pretend nothing’s changed.

“Do you have an element?” I ask, desperate to clear the thought from my head.

“Earth.” He grins, his eyes meeting mine. But there’s no depth behind them, so I’m quick to look away. “I’ve felt the connection since I was a boy.”

“Do you ever call on it?” I keep watch on the trailer, the broken-down shed, the filthy white car.

“I never learned how. Chepi did her best to shelter me from that kind of thing. Why, you want to teach me?”

I smile softly, and lean against him. “Maybe someday.” My breathing slows, keeping tempo with his, as the sky unfolds into a blooming canopy of silvery blues and pinks.

“They’ll be up soon. If they’re not already,” Dace whispers into my ear. “Suriel likes to greet the start of each day.”

He slides off Kachina’s back and helps me do the same. Then, not wanting her to attract any unwanted attention, I slap her on the rear, and tell her to find a nice place to graze. While Dace and I duck behind the old, broken-down shed just off to the side that’s even more dilapidated than the trailer.

A moment later, just like Dace said, a light switches on from inside. Allowing us to make out two shadowy figures moving behind a filmy yellow curtain.

“It’ll start with a sermon,” Dace says, and, sure enough, Suriel’s voice pierces the silence, roaring so loudly it bleeds through the walls of the trailer and into the yard. I stare at Dace, wondering how he knew that. “He’s a creature of habit.” He grins. “Never deviates from his routine.”

Though the words aren’t easily discerned, every now and then we’re able to catch one of Suriel’s favorite catchphrases.
Last Days are here … Shining Days of Glory shall commence … Suriel is but a humble servant, his daughter a tool of thy will …
More Apocalyptic nonsense. The guy is obsessed.

When he reaches the end, he leaves his daughter to dress as he stumbles from the trailer, turns toward the mountains, drops to his knees, and begins once again. Only this time we get to watch it as well. His body listing from side to side, his head rolling back, his tongue lolling free of his mouth.

“Guess you’re not the only one connected to the earth,” I joke, trying to make light of the scene unfolding before me. Mostly because it’s giving me a serious case of the creeps.

“He claims spirit has ahold of him when he does that. Used to freak us out when we were kids.”

Poor Phyre. To have to grow up like that …

I start to feel sorry for her. Start to feel a flood of compassion for her predicament. I used to think Jennika was embarrassing with her crazy hair colors and piercings and penchant for drama, but compared to Suriel, Jennika looks like a 1950s sitcom mom.

Though the sentiment is short lived. Vanishing the moment Phyre exits the trailer and I remember her goal to kill Dace.

She runs an uncertain hand over her halo of curls. Tugs her black miniskirt to better cover her thighs. Standing straight and rigid beside her father, as though she doesn’t dare move. Her features blunted, her face inscrutable, as she watches Suriel shake and sweat and convulse in a frenzy of righteousness.

With spot-on timing, she anticipates the exact moment he wakes from the trance. “I’m headed out,” she says. “Thought I’d get an early start.”

Suriel gets to his feet. Runs his palms down the front of his suit and straightens his tie. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small glass vial filled with some sort of cloudy liquid. His voice as stern as his face, he says, “It is time.”

Phyre nods. Tilts her head back. Parts her lips.

“This is your final chance to redeem yourself.”

She closes her eyes and offers her tongue.

“You know our deal. See that it’s done by midnight, Phyre. Any later is too late.” He shakes the vial into her mouth, counting the drops until he’s satisfied it’s enough.

As soon as she’s absorbed it, she tucks her chin to her chest and casts her gaze to her feet. Assuming a pose of supplication.

“I think you know what awaits you if you lie to me again…” Suriel’s voice drifts with implied threat.

Phyre nods. Squeezes her palms tightly together.

“You were begotten in sin and you shall end in sin!” Suriel shouts in a voice so thunderous my body gives way to an involuntary shudder. “It is your role. Your birthright. The destiny you were born for. It is a great honor to be called upon and used in this way. Now leave and do what you must. May the Glory of the Shining Days be upon us!”

In an emotionless voice, Phyre repeats that last part, then turns and heads in our direction. Making straight for the shed as Dace and I freeze with our breaths held in our cheeks.

The door squeals in protest as she forces it open. Emitting another shrill, creaking sound when she exits just as quickly, and heads for Suriel’s car.

“What is that?” I whisper, squinting into the distance, trying to make out the rectangular object she hauls into the trunk.

“Looks like an old gas can,” Dace says. Still squinting, he turns to me and adds, “What the hell are they up to?” His eyes meet mine.

“I have no idea,” I say. “But I’m about to find out. Will you watch over my body and make sure I stay safe?”

His questioning gaze follows mine to the raven that’s landed on the roof just above us. Reminding me of one of Paloma’s earliest teachings.

While he should not be mistaken for your actual spirit animal—he is still considered a brother, as all ravens are that inhabit the Middleworld. Raven is a messenger of the spirit realm—the things he will show you can shift your life dramatically. He will teach you to venture into the dark in order to bring forth the light …

The raven appearing at exactly this time is an omen, not an accident. Of that I am sure.

Dace folds my hand in his, gives it a squeeze of unspoken solidarity. “I would go with you, but…” He leaves the sentence unfinished, but we both know how it ends.

Can’t soul jump if you’re soulless
.

“It’s better I go alone,” I say. “I need you here to watch over me while I’m gone. But if Suriel sees us, or if you start to feel like you’re losing your energy, don’t hesitate to break the connection and wake me.”

Dace pulls me close, presses a brief, sweet kiss on my lips. His softly whispered, “Be careful, Daire,” the last thing I hear before my energy merges with the raven’s and the two of us become one.

thirty-one

Daire

So far, the raven is turning out to be a very hospitable host. Allowing me to direct him as I please, as we follow the path set by Phyre’s car.

She drives fast and with purpose. Pushing the speed limit until the back wheels begin to fishtail—causing big puffs of dirt to spin in her wake. Still, she handles it well, as though she’s done this before. Refusing to slow until she pulls onto the private paved road that leads to the Richters’ massive, adobe-style compound, where she parks just outside the gate and settles in to wait.

She’s going to kill him? Now? Before most people have eaten their breakfast?

I direct the raven to a nearby tree. Choosing a limb that allows me an unobstructed view, I watch via his small beady eyes as Phyre flips down her sun visor and inspects her hair and makeup in the dirty, rectangular mirror. Satisfied with what she sees, she slaps the visor in place, holds an open palm before her, puckers her lips, and spits. Staring at the small pool of saliva with a gaze so transfixed, I can’t even begin to guess what she’s up to.

Is she bored? Has she completely lost her mind? Is this another method of scrying where she tries to read a deeper meaning in the formation of the bubbles, like some people do with tea leaves?

Her reverie broken by the electronic hum of the heavy, rod-iron gates swinging open, as Cade’s shiny, black, four-wheel-drive truck barrels out. And I watch as she wipes her hand on her leg, leaps from her car, and, with her arms spread wide, jumps right in front of him.

Cade slams on the brakes. Tires squealing in protest, which is surprising in and of itself. I would’ve figured he’d run her right over without looking back.

His truck lurches forward, as he lowers his window and cranes his neck out. “What the hell?” he shouts. “What’re you—crazy?”

“Maybe.” She bats her eyes. Grinning seductively as she makes her way to the open driver’s side window. “Only one way to find out.” She leans against the door and cocks her head to the side, encouraging a spray of curls to tumble into her eyes.

“I don’t have time for crazy,” Cade says, not the least bit intrigued. “As you can see, I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“That’s too bad.” She pouts. “I was hoping you’d make time for me.”

“And why would I do that?” His features sharpen, though, if I’m not mistaken, his voice betrays a hint of burgeoning interest.

“Because I feel lonely. Despite all of my friends, I feel like no one truly understands me.”

“And I do?” He shucks a hand through his short crop of hair and snorts with amusement, but Phyre remains undeterred.

“We have a connection, Cade. Don’t try to deny it. You know there’s something between us. And so, I thought that maybe we could hang out. Keep each other company, or something…”

His face remains placid, hard to read. But I notice he doesn’t turn her away.

“I was on my way to town. But then I thought I’d stop by and see what you’re up to.” She runs a slow finger along the rim of the door, but despite the attraction, Cade’s not playing her game.

“I know you live in that dump of a trailer, Phyre. This is hardly on your way to town. Not to mention it’s six in the morning. You in the habit of dropping in on people so early?”

“Not people. Just you.” She lifts her chin, smiles through a halo of curls. “I know you like to go for an early morning run. I thought maybe I could join you?”

Cade looks her over, eyes glinting when he says, “You’re not exactly dressed for running.”

She lifts a shoulder. Tugs on her miniskirt. Remains grinning before him.

“You stalking me, Phyre?” His voice lowers, almost to the point of gruff. But I can’t read the tone. Is it desire? Disgust? Will he make her beg for it, because she’s coming dang close.

“Not stalking. More like … admiring,” she says. “There is a difference, you know.”

He stares, bobbing his head back and forth as though weighing the pros and cons of a brisk morning run versus a quick roll with a beautiful girl.

“I could show you the difference. If you’re up for it…” She bites her lip, takes a step back from the car. Holding herself in offering—leaving it to him to decide.

“What’re you after?” He works his jaw, rakes her with a deep, probing gaze.

She moves toward him, leans into his open window, and says, “Listen, I don’t see the point in playing games, so here it is: I like you.”

He nods like a person who’s so used to being admired, it would never occur to him to question her word.

“And now that you and Lita have broken up, I thought that maybe—”

“You got a twin fetish? Is that it?” He’s quick to cut her off.

She freezes.

“Didn’t you used to be with my brother?”

She bites her lip. Casts her gaze to the side.

“Is this your way of keeping his memory alive?”

“No.” She returns to him with an open, earnest face. “I know you’re nothing like him. I can see the difference in you. You’re darker. More dangerous. And it’s that very darkness that attracts me to you.”

Cade’s eyes narrow to slits. His fingers drum against the steering wheel. “Careful what you wish for,” he says. “You’re venturing into territory you don’t understand.”

“Don’t be so sure.” She places a hand on his arm. Her fingertips stroking his flesh, her tongue wetting the rim of her lips.

And as silly as it looks from up here, from the place where Cade sits, it holds a certain appeal.