With a curt nod of her head, she gets to filling a bowl with purified water, while instructing me to retrieve a clean cloth from the top drawer near the sink, so I can use it to cleanse Dace’s skin.
It’s busywork. Meant to help quell my nerves, distract me from my growing list of concerns. Still, I’m grateful for something to do, so I’m quick to obey.
“He’s remained unconscious the whole trip,” I tell her, softly running the damp cloth over Dace’s forehead and curving around the slope of his cheek, removing a thick, stubborn crust of blood and debris. “Which was for the best, believe me. Though, if he does wake up and starts acting strange, don’t be alarmed. He’s deeply traumatized. Convinced that he’s dreaming.” My voice catches, reminded of the haunted look on his face when I first found him, unable to imagine the kind of horrors he’s seen.
“Yet you were able to carry him all the way back here on your own?” Paloma lifts a brow, shoots me a questioning look.
I shake my head. Dip the cloth into the bowl. Watching as the water instantly darkens to a deep, brownish red. “Axel was there. I couldn’t have done it without him.” The words leave a bitter taste on my tongue, as I jab my thumb in Axel’s direction, illustrating his place by the wall. Watching dumbfounded when Paloma looks over her shoulder and squints into the distance. “You can’t see him, can you?” I say, stunned into silence when she shakes her head to confirm it.
Paloma can’t see him, but Lita can?
“No matter,” she says. “I don’t need to see him to utilize his healing abilities.”
I sneak a glance at Axel and frown. “His magick isn’t working,” I say. “If anything, it bears the opposite effect.”
No way is he laying hands on Dace. Not after what he did to that tree!
But Paloma ignores me, summoning Axel to her side as she covers Dace’s wounds with a thick, herbal poultice.
“He is here?” She motions to her right, sensing the moment Axel claims the space just beside her.
“Yes, but, abuela, you have to know, his magick—”
“I don’t need his magick.” She’s quick to put an end to my argument. “I need his intent. It is our spirit guides that allow us to perform healings. I don’t make the magick, nieta. I merely serve as a channel for their benevolent energy. You and Axel both love Dace. That much is clear. And since Love is the strongest force in the universe, I need you both to concentrate on that Love, while I proceed to transfer that healing energy to Dace’s wounds.” Then looking at me, she adds, “A Seeker always has something to work with, nieta. Even in the bleakest of times. Sometimes intent is all that’s required.”
“Sometimes? You mean like this time, right?”
My voice is screechy, overly anxious, begging for the sort of assurance she just can’t provide. Instead, she motions for me to take Axel’s hand, and at first, I can’t help but hesitate. The twins are connected in mystical ways, which means the act of energizing Dace will also benefit Cade. But with a stern nod from Paloma, it’s not long before I grip Axel’s fingers in mine, squinch my eyes shut, and project all of the Love I hold in my heart into Dace’s inert form.
twenty-eight
Dace
A welcoming wave of warmth ripples from the top of my skull all the way down to the soles of my feet. Enveloping my outsides as thoroughly as it consumes my insides.
I struggle to lift my head, needing to see the source of the heat. Counting two sets of hands hovering over my flesh. The larger ones bearing illuminated palms.
“Almost there … hold on…” a familiar voice says as an electric jolt surges through me. The current so forceful, so gripping, my head thrashes from side to side, my hands curl to fists, as my body goes rigid with a heat so intense, I’m not sure I can bear it.
Though no sooner have I thought it, when my body falls cool and limp, the hands move away, and a tentative voice says, “Dace? You okay?”
A delicate finger trails down my cheek, and I open my eyes to see a beautiful girl with brilliant green eyes chewing hard on her lip.
The vision alone enough for me to leap off the table and fold her into my arms. I hug her tightly to me. Needing to fill my senses with her. Needing the assurance that she really is here. That I’m not just dreaming her.
I cup my hand to the back of her head, filling my fingers with her soft silken strands. I’ve yearned for her for so long. Feared our reunion would never come. But now, with her face nestled into my neck, inhaling her soft, sweet scent, there’s no mistaking that she really is here. Clinging to me just as desperately as I cling to her.
Our love equally earnest—equally deep.
Or is that just a memory embedded in me?
As though sensing the change, Daire’s the first to pull away. And from the moment she looks into my eyes, the truth can no longer be denied.
I’m still soulless.
And without the soul, I can’t fully grasp the experience.
I can see her. Feel her. But it’s as though it’s happening to someone else.
Like I’m observing it from a distance.
As though there’s an invisible barrier wavering between us.
Like I’m going through a checklist of the emotions I should feel, rather than actually experiencing them for real.
Her gaze is dark and probing. Seeking a substance that’s no longer there.
The place where my soul once resided is now a vast, empty void.
Still, my heart continues to beat. And, just like before, it beats only for her.
For now, it’s all that I’ve got.
It’ll have to suffice.
“How do you feel?” She blinks back the grief and brings a tentative hand to my cheek.
“Healed.” I force a grin to my cheeks in an effort to prove it.
She meets it with an encouraging look of her own. Her lips parting, about to say something more, when there’s a commotion at the front door and Chepi bursts up the ramp and into the room, followed by the rest of the elders.
My mother comes at me in a flurry of shrieks and tears. Burying me deep into the folds of her arms as she murmurs a string of soft words, spoken in our native tongue.
I smooth my hands down her back, shocked by the way her shoulder blades jut from her flesh. Angel wings she used to call them. Every time I fell ill as a child, she’d fast and pray and slowly waste away until I recovered.
“Mama, please. There’s no reason to cry,” I whisper, “I’m back. I’m safe. I’m healed. And it’s just a matter of time before my soul is restored.”
At the mention of my missing soul, she’s quick to jerk away and stare deep into my eyes. Confirming what I’ve just told her, she whirls on Daire and says, “You promised you’d get his soul back!”
I start to intervene, but to Daire’s credit, she receives the blow gracefully, doesn’t so much as flinch. “I promised to find him, which I did. Restoring his soul is next on the list.”
Chepi is flustered and angry, mumbling words that don’t make any sense. “I’m taking you home.” She pulls at my waist. “You’ve had a long journey, you need to rest.”
I uncurl her fingers and fold my hands over hers. Holding her before me and absorbing her anger until her expression softens, her shoulders droop, and she’s calm enough to hear me when I say, “Mama, please. I don’t need to rest. My body is healed, strong. I can take care of myself. I’ve been languishing too long as it is. First, I need to get my soul back. And then I need to deal with Cade. Only then will I be able to fully rest again.”
“You say you’re strong now, but how long will it last?” Chepi looks to Paloma, seemingly unable to see Axel standing beside her.
“With a little help from a divine source, Dace’s wounds are healed.” Paloma allows a faint smile as she trains her focus on me. “I closed your wounds and gave you a very intense healing infusion. I’m sure you feel the heat swirling within you?”
I nod. It’s intense, but nothing I can’t handle.
She nods
in approval. “Let your temperature be your gauge,” she says. “You’ll know it’s time for another infusion when you begin to feel cool. If you wait too long and grow cold … well, I’m afraid you’ll be right back where you started.” She fixes me with a hardened stare, eager to impart the seriousness of her words.
“So, that’s it?” I crack a half-grin. “When the engine runs cold it’s time for a tune-up?” I translate her warning into the kind of grease-monkey language I understand best.
“How long will it last?” Daire asks. Her bottom lip receding into her mouth, dragged along by her teeth.
“It was a pretty strong dose.” Axel looks between Daire and me. “But there’s no way of knowing for sure.”
“Whatever it is, it’ll have to suffice,” I say, eager to get going. To use the strength while I have it. But Axel remains unconvinced, looking at me with a pinched and troubled face.
“Who are you talking to?” Chepi casts a squinted gaze around the room.
“Axel. Dace’s spirit guide is here,” Daire says, but the words fail to comfort.
“But they only appear when someone is meant to die!” She cries, clutching at me once again.
“Yes. I was meant to die,” I tell her, instantly regretting the blunt tone of my words when I see the look of pain that crosses her face. Still, there’s no point in lying. She deserves to hear the truth. “Only I didn’t die. For whatever reason, I managed to live. So now I’m going to make sure I use my life in a way that matters.” I look at Daire as I add, “Starting now.”
“I understand your impatience to get started,” Leftfoot says, his eyes sending me a silent message I’m slow to understand. “But it’s the middle of the night and you’ve already suffered quite an ordeal. Why not take Chepi’s advice? A few hours of rest won’t make much of a difference.”
I narrow my gaze on the old medicine man. It’s a rare occasion when I don’t follow his advice.
This is one of those occasions.
“There’s no time—I have to use the energy while I have it!” I say, already moving away.
“Do you even know where to look?” he asks, his voice neither taunting nor superior, merely matter-of-fact.
My reply of silence is proof that I don’t.
“Better not to waste your energy by floundering around. Let me do some of the groundwork first, so you can go in when it counts. Come on, Dace.” He slips an arm around me, pats me on the back. “Come back to the reservation with us. You and Daire can head out at daybreak.”
Typical Leftfoot. Always trying to separate me from Daire. Making me wonder if he suspected all along that the love Daire and I share serves to strengthen my freak of a brother. Still, I look upon him with a deep-rooted fondness. He’s taught me everything I know—always been like a father to me.
“You all go ahead,” Chay says, taking Leftfoot’s side. “I’ll stay here. Paloma and I can do some work through the night while Daire gets some sleep.” He smiles at me with a face so benevolent, so sincere, there’s nothing I can say to refute it. “Few hours from now, you’ll be rested, refreshed, and heading in the right direction. What do you say?”
I turn my focus to Daire, as Chepi and Paloma murmur their approval. “Fine,” I say, knowing there’s no use prolonging the fight when it’s so much easier to give the appearance of going along. The elders are a formidable force, especially when they all band together. Still, sometimes I need to do things in my own time, my own way.
Before anyone can stop me, I move toward Daire and pull her into my arms. And the second her lips meet mine everything fades until all that’s left is this kiss.
Her touch is soft and lingering, both of us knowing the moment we break away, the gravity of the situation will descend once again.
One second—her lips move gently with mine.
Two—her breath becomes one with my own.
Three—there is nothing I wouldn’t do for this girl.
It’s the vow I take with me, as I reluctantly draw away and head for the door.
twenty-nine
Daire
Chay works in the garden out back, collecting fresh herbs and flowers from the long list Paloma gave him, while Paloma and I work on cleaning her office, moving around each other with practiced efficiency.
After a prolonged silence, she turns to me and says, “Nieta, what’s wrong? Dace is back, his wounds are healed, and yet, you seem rather blue.”
“Not blue.” I sigh, ashamed by my small, petty mood in the midst of all the good she just mentioned. “More like … lavender.” I return the bowl to the cupboard and face her.
“This is about Axel.” She wipes her hands on a towel and folds it back neatly. Paloma’s always been able to read me.
“He wasn’t supposed to save me,” I tell her. “Dace was meant to die, not me.”
“So he interfered with destiny?” Her voice is soft, but her gaze is needle sharp. “And you’re unsure of his motives?” She tips onto her toes, straining to put the last jar away. But I’m taller, so I’m quick to swoop in and place it there for her.
“Let’s just say that while I may have misinterpreted his motives from the start, now that he’s explained it, I’m left with even more misgivings than before. He claims he saved me to save Dace. But he did so at great personal risk, and I’m not sure what to do with that. It makes me feel like I’m weirdly indebted to him.”
“So you’d prefer he would’ve let you die?”
I shoot her a sideways glance. “I told you it was stupid.”
Paloma presses toward the sink and turns on the tap. Rinsing the cloth I used to cleanse Dace’s face and hands under a hot stream of water. “Nieta, what you need to understand is that Axel was created for this. He was created to guide. If he chose to do something that went against his creed, he did so knowingly and willingly.”
I study her carefully. Watching as she alternately rinses, twists, and crumples the cloth in her hands until the blood is mostly gone and the remaining water streams clear.
“What do you mean he was created for this?”
“Nieta, Axel was never human.” She inspects the cloth. Still stained with Dace’s blood, she moves to dispose of it.
“But I thought you said the Upperworld was inhabited by benevolent beings who once walked among us and now choose to guide us?”
“It is. As you probably saw for yourself. But there are also those who’ve never taken corporeal form.”
I frown. Needing a moment to process. “But how can you be sure of that when you couldn’t actually see him?”
“I don’t need to see him to read his energy—his intent. Tell me, what color are his eyes?” she asks. “Are they unearthly?”
I rub my lips together, grudgingly admitting, “They’re lavender. The color of my mood.” A grin sneaks onto my lips.
“Otherworldly irises. I figured as much. Listen, nieta,” she says. “Axel’s choices belong to him and him alone. It’s the decisions we make at the crossroads of life that define us. Axel just experienced his own defining moment.”
“So his true character is that of a rebel angel?”
Paloma grins, but it’s faint, and rather short lived.
“Oh, and to top it all off, I think he has a thing for Lita.” I don’t even try to contain the groan that escapes my lips. “And from what I can tell, it’s strongly reciprocated.”
Paloma looks at me with a face more alarmed than amused, her features pinched with concern. “Then I shall hope they both come to their senses, and soon. That will never end well.”
The words leave me sobered, wondering if I should try to warn Lita, or at least find a way to distract her from him.
“Oh, and speaking of Lita—I almost forgot…” I snake my finger into my pocket, retrieving the tourmaline and handing it to Paloma. “Cade gave it to her. But while Lita doesn’t want it, Xotichl says its energy is off, and thought you might want to see it. I can’t get anything from it, but we figured maybe you could. There’s a lot
of tourmalines floating around over there,” I say, going on to tell her about Marliz’s engagement ring.
Paloma folds her fingers around it, testing its heft, its weight. “Maybe they just want to get rid of the inventory,” she says, though her expression reveals a deeper concern. “And yet, I think we both know the Richters never give freely. There’s always an ulterior motive where they’re concerned.” She drops the gem into her pocket, and ushers me down the hall. “I’ll look into it. But for now, get some rest, nieta.” She brushes the back of her fingers over my cheek, tucking a rogue lock of hair behind my ear. “I won’t let you sleep long, I promise. I know you’re anxious to get to work. But a few hours of rest will do you some good. Chay and I can handle things until then.”
I step obediently into my room and pause on the door’s other side with my ear pressed hard against the wood. The soft shuffle of Paloma’s feet moving down the hall and into the den where her voice mingles with Chay’s is all the cue I need to rush toward my window, slide it open, and slip outside into a frigid, cold night.
My shoes slam hard on the gravel, resulting in a loud crunching sound. But after a few moments pass and no one comes to check, I race across the courtyard, sneak around back, and cross the garden, all the way to Kachina’s stall.
Judging by the way she whinnies in greeting, lowering her head to nuzzle against me, I figure she must’ve missed me as much as I missed her.
Which is pretty much the opposite of Cat who arches his back, gives me a good solid hiss, and instantly flees.
“Guess Cat’s still Cat.” I run my hand down Kachina’s neck and over the perfect stripes of her brown-and-white mane. “What do you say we follow his lead and get out of here too? A little late-night ride might do us some good.”
Whether or not she understood, I can’t say for sure. But when she sees me retrieve her bridal and bit, she definitely perks up with excitement.
Not wanting to waste time with the blanket and saddle, I hop onto her bare back and nudge her out of the stall. Making my way to the reservation where I find Dace waiting for me by the grove of twisted juniper trees.