Soul Seekers03 - Mystic (6 page)

Just two more steps and I’m there …

“Daire Lyons-Santos?”

I pretend not to hear. If she knows my name, that can’t be a good thing. It might mean she’s connected to Axel.

She rushes up from behind me. Her movements quicker, lighter, more fluid than mine, she catches me by the shoulder with ease and spins me until I’m staring into a pair of deeply appraising eyes that remind me of the color of the sea at sunrise. Her silvery/pink gaze so astonishing, it’s a moment before I manage to take in her soft brown skin, long, dark ringlets, and the tall lithe body clothed in a dress that’s a close match to mine. Only instead of stark white, hers is the same shade as her eyes.

“It is you, isn’t it?” she says, her surprise at finding me here visibly marked on her face. Though while it’s clear she knows me, I have no idea who she is. “What are you doing here? Where have you been? I’ve been searching everywhere—I lost track of you in all of the chaos.” She tugs on the slim strap of my dress. “And why are you wearing this? Who gave this to you?”

I duck free of her grip and take a step back. While I have no idea what’s going on, or why my dress could be of any concern to her, I know better than to answer.

I chance a quick glance over my shoulder, needing to reach that shimmering veil more than ever. Regretting the act the moment she catches me looking.

“Oh, no,” she says, closing the space between us with one fluid step. “I don’t know how you got here, Daire. Or how this even happened, but you cannot go back there. Not now. Not ever.” Her friends call to her, asking if they should wait, but she waves them away and returns her focus to me. “Come, Daire. Come with me.” Her fingers circle my wrist. Her gaze locks on mine. “I’m here to help. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It won’t take long to get this all sorted out.”

I nod like I mean it. Going so far as to return her smile in a bid to win her confidence. While I’m sure she means well, she has no idea what’s really going on. No idea what’s at stake back home.

No idea of what Axel has done.

And I’m in no mood to enlighten her.

She turns on her heel and tugs on my arm, and I pretend to drop my resistance and follow along. My willingness to obey causing her to slacken her grip just enough to allow me to jerk free and bolt toward the veil, using every ounce of strength that I have.

Aware of her voice calling out from behind me—high-pitched and frantic, urging me to stop.

But it’s too late for that.

I’m already soaring, diving, bursting through the web.

Already in gravity’s clutches, plunging toward earth.

burnt offerings

nine

Xotichl

After several knocks on Paloma’s front door go unanswered, Lita and I head around back where we find her tending to a bed of strange hybrid plants that continue to thrive no matter the season.

I tilt my chin high and take a long, greedy inhale. Filling my nose with their lush fragrant scent before I say, “I’m a day early and I brought company.” I nod in Lita’s direction. “I hope that’s okay?” The question asked more out of politeness than any real concern that Paloma would turn us away. She likes having us around. Sees us as a link to Daire, much like we see her.

She grasps the basket of medicinal night blooms and struggles to stand. The scene unfolding before me in a grim, sludgy, stream of energy with a luminous glow at the tip of her fingers.

“Here, let me get that.” Lita rushes up beside her in a streak of vibrant orange that veers toward Paloma’s listless gray. The contrast providing a bitter reminder of just how frail Paloma’s become in the past few days.

While she never fully recovered after her soul was returned, and while there’s no doubt that Daire’s disappearance has taken a toll on each of us, Paloma’s clearly the most affected of all.

Despite having firsthand knowledge of the hazards of being a Seeker, she holds herself responsible for the loss of her granddaughter. And no matter how many times I remind her that the prophecy was in motion, that it couldn’t be stopped, it doesn’t do much to alleviate the guilt.

Lita takes the basket and helps Paloma to the back door as I follow them inside. Moving past a kitchen that’s rife with the scent of something healthy and delicious warming in the oven, past the continuous crackle and pop of the wood-burning kiva fireplace, and up the ramp to her office where she settles us at the old wooden table, before she returns to the kitchen to grab us a snack.

“I could get used to this,” Lita says, when Paloma places a steaming cup of ginger tea and a vegan cardamom cupcake before us. “What do you say tomorrow, same time, same place, same snack?”

We all laugh a little longer than the joke actually merits. Hungry for an excuse to lighten our emotional loads.

“Aren’t you going to have some?” Lita asks, when Paloma joins us at the table.

“I am fasting until she returns,” she says. “These are Daire’s favorite. I make a fresh batch every day, so they’ll be here when she comes back.”

Lita falls silent, busying herself with her cupcake and tea, as I lean toward Paloma, and say, “I brought Lita because I think it’s time she learns the truth of this town, and I figured you’re the best one to explain it.”

The muted squeak of her finger running circles around the rim of her mug tells me I need a better way to sell this.

“With Daire missing—” I pause, needing a moment to collect myself before I continue. No matter how many times I say it, it doesn’t become any easier. “There’s no other Seeker to replace her. Which means we’re all going to have to pitch in and do our part. But we can’t protect each other if some of us don’t even know what they need protecting from.”

Paloma remains quiet for so long, I’m on the verge of begging, when she says, “I suppose you’re right.” Her voice, like her energy, is weary but resigned. “So, where do you suggest I begin?”

“How about the beginning,” Lita says. “I’ve got a feeling the history of this town is nothing like they taught us in school.”

Paloma nods in assent and settles into her chair, relaying a story so strange I keep careful watch over Lita’s energy to see how she’s handling it. And to my surprise, she’s not nearly as shocked as I assumed she would be.

“I knew it!” Lita cries, the second Paloma’s story ends. Smacking the table for emphasis, which from my end looks like a sharp streak of orange merging into a stagnant stream of brown. “
I so totally knew it.
” She over-enunciates every word. “I mean, maybe I didn’t know that all of the Richters, also known as El Coyote, are pretty much evil to the core. And maybe I didn’t know that Cade could turn into an actual demon because he’s basically the spawn of a demon and contrived by black magick. And maybe I didn’t know that this town is filled with secret portals, or vortexes, or whatever you call them…”

“So, what exactly did you know?” I ask, unable to keep from grinning.

“I knew that Cade was bad news. I knew there was something very dark about him. And I feel like hurling every time I think of all of the things that I … that we…” She steadies her breath, rubs her palms against the table, and starts again. “Anyway, as for that creepy coyote of his, I’ve seen it. More than once. And the first time I saw its eyes glowing red, I screamed bloody murder and ran. But then Cade told me some made-up story about how he found him abandoned as a pup and decided to rescue him, train him, and keep him as a pet, and … ugh. I can’t even tell you how disappointed I am in myself for being so charmed by all that. I can’t believe I actually believed him!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Paloma slides away from the table, the chair’s legs scraping hard against the tiled floor. “The Richters know how to alter perception. They altered yours, as well as most everyone else in this town.”

“Everyone except Xotichl.” Lita swivels toward me. “How come you never fell for his act?”

“Cade can’t get to me.” I duck my head, take a sip of my tea. “None of the Richters can. It’s the benefit of being blind.”

“Are you saying he
glamoured
me?” Lita’s voice pitches so high, she practically squeaks. “That he looked into my eyes and hypnotized me like the vampires do on TV?” She’s torn between fascination and outrage, as demonstrated by the way her energy sparks and flares.

“Not exactly,” Paloma says. “They need the benefit of your sight in order to alter the way you perceive things. It’s an esoteric practice that very few have been able to master. As the story goes, before they happened upon the secrets of this particular skill, they were average, if not honorable, citizens. Or at least until they became warped by the power. They grew increasingly greedy, acquisitive, drunk on their own authority. No matter how much damage they do, the people continue to perceive them as a family worthy of their awe and respect. All too happy to toil away for the Richters’ various interests, while spending all of their earnings eating and drinking in their bar and other establishments. It’s a terrible cycle ensuring they remain forever indebted. You know the saying:
Absolute power corrupts absolutely
? The Richters are a prime example of that.”

“And Cade is the worst of them all, having spent the last year stealing bits of people’s souls, which he then fed to his dead ancestors in order to resurrect them and do his bidding,” I say, wanting Lita to know that while her falling for Cade wasn’t exactly her fault, the truth is far worse than she thinks.

“Are you seriously telling me that he used my soul to fuel some godforsaken, Richter zombie?”

If I thought she squeaked before, it was nothing compared to how that sounded.

“Not all of it. Just a piece,” I say, instantly regretting being so blunt. It’s a lot to swallow in just one gulp. I need to break her in slowly.

“It was returned to you on the Day of the Dead when Daire convinced the Bone Keeper to release them,” Paloma says. “You’ve probably noticed a few changes since then.”

“The same day I broke up with Cade!” Lita gasps, and then, as though it just now registered, she says, “Wait—did you say,
the Bone Keeper
?” The squeaking reaches an all new high. “Now you’re telling me there’s such a thing as a Bone Keeper too?”

“She has a skull face, she feeds off the stars, and she wears a black leather corset, stiletto boots, and a snake skirt,” I tell her. “Well, according to legend, anyway. Though Daire did confirm it.”

“So … she’s a goth?”

“Probably the original goth,” I laugh. “Oh, and the snake skirt is made of real snakes that slither around her waist and legs. And those same snakes did the soul retrieving by slipping down the Richters’ throats and—” I pause, watching as Lita’s energy fades into something horrible and bleak. So much for my attempt to rein it in.

“Okay, so, in a nutshell, the Richters are evil, Dace and Daire are good, spirit animals are not superstition, they’re real, there are three worlds—a Lowerworld, an Upperworld, and this one, the Middleworld, and—” Lita pauses, hesitant to actually say it. “And a piece of my soul was stolen by my ex-boyfriend, which he then used to reanimate a dead ancestor, until it was rescued by a snake, and found its way back to me?”

“In a nutshell,” I say, my voice small and regretful.

“Sheesh. And to think I’ve lived my whole life here, and the entire time I didn’t have the slightest clue of what was really going on.”

“Most people only see what they want to see,” Paloma says. “It’s only when they can no longer afford that luxury that they see what they must.”

“Anything else I need to know?” Lita asks. “What about vampires and werewolves—oh, and fairies? Where do they fit in—are they real too?”

“While I can’t speak for them, I can say that Daire’s the one who made it snow.” I grin at the memory, imagining the triumph she must have felt when the flakes began to fall after so many failed attempts.

“And Cade is responsible for making the sky bleed fire,” Paloma says.

The words so unexpected, I lean toward her, as Lita grumbles, “Figures.”

“How so?” I ask, listening intently as Paloma rises from the table, goes to an old locked cupboard, and retrieves a heavy tome she places in the middle of the table.

“The Codex,” I whisper, voice laced with awe, as the vivid colors of its energy blooms in the space before me.

“Codex? What’s a codex?” Lita swivels her focus between Paloma and me.

“A codex is an ancient text. This particular codex was created by Valentina—”

“One of the first of the Santos family Seekers,” Paloma explains. “She suffered a great many trials to accumulate the knowledge contained in this book, so that all future Seekers might someday benefit.”

“And you’ve seen this before?” Lita directs the question at me. Though she’s quick to correct herself when she adds, “What I meant was, you’re
familiar
with this?”

“I’m
familiar
with it
and
I’ve seen it.” I grin. “And while I may not be able to see the actual pages, I
can
read its energy.”

“And what is its energy telling you now?” Paloma slides the ancient leather-bound book across the table until it’s resting before me.

I lift my palms so they’re hovering just a few inches above it. My attention instantly claimed by a very strong impression I’m reluctant to share.

It can’t be.

It’s impossible.

And what if I dare say it out loud and it turns out that I’m wrong?

“What do you see?” Paloma urges, her tone leaving no question that she’s onto me, knows that I’m not being entirely forthcoming.

“Yeah, tell us what you see,” Lita says. “Don’t hold back on my account.”

I take a deep breath, clear my throat, and say, “The prophecy has changed.”

“How?” Paloma moves her chair closer to mine.

“You were right about Cade. He’s the one who filled the sky with fire. He did it to force the prophecy. He was impatient. Convinced that if he could just get it going, then he could hasten the day that he’d rise up and rule. But some things cannot be forced, and now the prophecy is … dormant … for lack of a better word.”