Echo (Soul Seekers)

by Alyson Noel

  “What the hell are you doing here? What do you want?” Dace presses his mangled sleeve hard against the wound in a vain attempt to stanch the flow of blood. Confused by his brother’s sudden appearance, the strange tone he’s adopting, the invasive look that he gives me. So uninformed, so out of the loop, I can’t help but curse Chepi. Leftfoot too. They should’ve told him. Heck, I should’ve told him. But now it’s too late. Leaving no choice but to see where Cade leads.

  “I think a better question is—what are you doing here? Aren’t you scheduled to work?” Cade tilts his head, staring hard at his brother, as my gaze veers between them.

  They share the same strong brow, the same high cheekbones, square chin, and generous well-shaped mouth. Yet their demeanors are so different it’s easy to forget they’re identical twins. Dace is tense and confused, while Cade remains confident, poised, all too aware he’s in charge.

  “Not to worry.” Cade waves it away. “I’ll find a way to cover. It’s the least I can do after what you’ve done for me. In fact, I should thank you—though I probably won’t. Expressing appreciation isn’t really my thing.”

  Dace narrows his gaze, keeping a wary eye on Coyote, as he clutches hard at his arm with blood-slickened fingers.

  “You have no idea what’s going on here, do you?” Cade smirks. Spikes a hand through tousled black hair that’s an exact match to Dace’s in both texture and color, though Cade keeps his shorter. “Guess Chepi never got around to telling you. And it looks like your girlfriend didn’t bother to fill you in either. Speaking of—hello, Daire.” He flashes me an insincere smile—the kind that used to melt the hearts of all the girls at Milagro, or at least until they got their souls back. Holding the look for so long, I fight not to squirm under the weight of it. “You’re looking quite … radiant. Guess it’s safe to assume you two enjoyed your little retreat?”

  At the sound of his words, my entire body goes tense. Veering close to full-blown panic when he gestures toward the place just behind us.

  “You know, your little oasis. Your Enchanted Spring. Same one you used to dream about, right?” He flicks his tongue across his front teeth, leering at me. “I staged it especially for you. Doubled the amount of bubbles and flowers, made the lawn just a little bit springier—which I thought made for a nice romantic touch. Judging by the flush at your cheeks, you thought so too.”

  My breath stills. My hands grow clammy and cold. And when I reach for Dace, I find he’s experiencing the same physical reactions as me.

  “What’s going on? What is this?” Dace looks between us, his expression pained and confused, while I remain silent. Knowing only part of the story. His brother holds the key.

  “You want the short version or the long version?” Cade fishes in the pocket of his brown suede jacket, retrieving a silver-and-turquoise lighter along with a cigarette he shakes free of its pack.

  “I want the truth,” Dace says, his jaw so clenched he’s forced to grind out the words.

  “You sure you can handle it?” Cade lifts a brow, flicks the lighter’s metal wheel with the pad of his thumb. The resulting flame illuminating his blank empty eyes in a way that chills me to the core. “After all, the women in your life didn’t seem to think so.”

  Dace curses under his breath, advances on his brother, ready to end this before it begins.

  The sight of it prompting Cade to laugh, as he says, “Relax, brother. No need for big shows of false intimidation. Truly.” Seeing Dace take another step forward, he rolls his eyes and adds, “Trust me and do as I say. I’m only trying to save you from yourself. Whether you like it or not, you and I are connected in ways you cannot imagine, and it’s time you learned the truth.”

  Dace pauses, stopping halfway between his twin and me. It’s enough to allow Cade to continue.

  “See, we’re not just twins, brother—we’re a split soul. Identical on the surface and yet very different inside. They tell me yours is the good and pure half.” He makes a face of exaggerated gagging distaste. “While mine is pure only in its darkness—evil to the bone. Though it’s really of no interest to me.” He shrugs to illustrate his indifference. “Evil is just an unimaginative label used by pathetic losers who never accomplish anything interesting in their dull wretched lives. They cling to their false beliefs—use it to shore themselves up. Convincing themselves they’ll someday be rewarded for living a useless life of no conceivable consequence—while I’m doomed to an afterlife spent burning in hell.” He slips his cigarette between parted lips and takes a long drag, exhaling as he says, “Tell me, brother, do I look worried to you?”

  Dace remains silent, still. His expression guarded, though notably lacking the shock I would’ve expected.

  “Truth is, they can’t bear to see the truth. Can’t bear to face the fact that their lives are worthless, and their suffering pointless. So they exalt themselves with false promises—while wagging a finger at me. Idiots.” He laughs as though greatly amused by the folly. “Make no mistake, it is I who will inherit the earth. It’s my destiny. It’s what I was specifically designed to do. You see, our father, Leandro, is a powerful sorcerer who set out to make a perfect heir, which he did.” He runs a flattering hand over himself, the tip of his cigarette sparking and flaring as it works its way down. “On the Day of the Dead, when the veil between the living and deceased is lifted, he called upon some of our long-dead ancestors to work a little black magick on our mother. You and I are the result of their handiwork. Only Leandro didn’t plan for you. His goal was simply to split the soul in two—nurturing the dark half while extinguishing the light. But something went wrong, and he accidentally made you as well. For years we considered you a deviant aberration—an embarrassment to the Richter El Coyote clan. We thought you were worthless, of little value or use. Hell, it wasn’t long ago when I begged Leandro to let me kill you.” His gaze turns inward, as he muses at the memory. Returning to Dace when he says, “He was just about to give in, when I stumbled across some interesting information hinting that you are far more useful than we ever imagined. Turns out, you have a purpose far greater than embarrassing us…”

  He pauses dramatically, relishing the way he’s claimed our attention. And I can hardly believe that it’s here—the answer I’ve been seeking—or at least one of them anyway.

  Cade drags on his cigarette, squinting as he exhales a series of perfectly round smoke rings he pauses to admire. Purposely delaying the reveal, if only to prove he’s in charge. “As it turns out, you were born to help us achieve our destiny. It’s the reason you survived. You see, you … my brother … are the Echo.”

  I cast a nervous glance toward Dace, seeing him shudder, as a jolt of anxiety shoots through my limbs. Needing to hear what comes next but dreading the reveal all the same.

  “You are the Echo of me—and I am the Echo of you. We share the kind of connection I am only just beginning to understand. While I’m far too dark to personally experience this supposedly wondrous emotion you refer to as love—as it turns out, the love you hold for Daire and the love she holds for you allows me a sort of all-access pass. The Seeker loves you, and you love the Seeker.” He spreads his arms wide and bows low before us. Rising with a flourish, he says, “I couldn’t have asked for anything better! And now, thanks to a little smoke and mirrors on my part, a little tweak in your perception, you’ve not only seen fit to declare your love—but also to share it.”

  “You were watching?” Dace rushes him in outrage, failing to stop even when Coyote lunges for him yet again. His razor-sharp fangs veering for Dace’s other arm, intending to maul it as well, when Cade catches him in midflight and hauls him back to his side.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” Cade balks, makes a face of outraged distaste. “Trust me when I say I couldn’t bear the sight of it. The very thought of your tender moment makes me ill. Though make no mistake.” His face hardens, turning his eyes to mere slits. “I’m always aware. I know everything about you, brother. It’d be smart of you to never
forget that.”

  “You’re crazy!” Dace roars, oblivious to the continuous trail of blood that streams to his wrist, over his fingers, before mixing with the dirt at his feet. “You’re a freak!”

  He lunges again, but Cade shakes his head and shoves his palm square in the middle of Dace’s chest. Holding him off with only one hand in a show of unexpected brute strength that sets me on edge. With a final drag of his cigarette, he flicks it to his feet and gives Dace a backward shove, saying, “No, brother, you’re wrong. I’m well beyond labels. I transcend anything your small mind can conceive. I’m simply superior—to you and everyone else—as I’ve already explained.”

  Dace stares hard at his brother, as Coyote stares hard at him, ready to attack at the first sign from Cade.

  “Though that’s not to say I’m not glad you enjoyed your little lovefest.” Cade grins in a way that comes off looking creepy, obscene. “In my own way, I guess you could say I enjoyed it too. There’s just so much positivity and love in the air it’s as though I’m completely transformed!”

  His eyes level on mine. Those icy-blue irises banded by gold appearing nearly identical to his twin’s. Though unlike Dace’s kaleidoscope gaze that reflects everything in its vicinity—Cade’s eyes are empty. Nonreflective. A fathomless abyss absorbing the essence of all that it sees.

  And now they’re absorbing me.

  Tugging on my soul.

  Siphoning my energy.

  Determined to drain me, while hinting at something far too horrible to speak.

  His gaze deepens, features lifting in triumph, as he says, “Oh yes, Santos, I’m afraid it’s all true. While you think you can refuse to work with me—while you think you can refuse the generous offer I’ve made you—what you fail to realize is that you’ve been working for me all along. Since well before you arrived in Enchantment. Dace and I are two halves of a whole. Connected. Intertwined. Which means the love you feel for him—in thought, deed, even in your dreams—it all serves to strengthen me. I’m the beneficiary of every kind and loving emotion you have toward each other. Same goes for the sexy thoughts too.”

  The pendulum!

  Paloma was right. They’re connected so deeply, the pendulum sees them as one. My subconscious mind already accepting the horrible truth my heart fought to refuse.

  “There’s no avoiding it,” Cade taunts. “No way to undo what’s already done. You two are destined. Fated. And now, the prophecy has begun. In other words”—his gaze slants to his brother—“the snowball’s headed for hell and there’s no way to stop it.”

  Dace’s features sharpen with rage. Despite his wounded arm, despite all he just learned, he refuses to fold. Refuses to be cowed by his freak of a brother. “I always knew you were crazy—but now you’ve reached a whole new level,” he says. “You stay away from us. And don’t even think about going near Daire!”

  He reaches for me with his good arm, tries to pull me away, but I’m frozen in place. Sickened by everything Cade just revealed, but even more disturbed by the words that repeat in my head:

  Thanks to a little smoke and mirrors on my part, a little tweak in your perception …

  Reminded of what Paloma told me about El Coyote’s ability to change people’s perception. Remembering how Cade and Leandro toyed with mine during my first visit to the Rabbit Hole—making it seem as though the ceiling was dropping, the walls caving in. How they stood back and watched—father and son—enjoying my breakdown, my split with reality.

  Though once I discovered the true physical difference between Dace and Cade, realized how their eyes are nothing alike—something Paloma claims no one else has been able to discern—I was sure I was immune to his tricks. Sure he couldn’t mess with me. Yet there’s no denying the tug I felt just a moment ago when he fixed his gaze right on mine.

  The way he yanked hard on my soul.

  I drop Dace’s hand and bolt for the spring, gasping in horror when I see that what I once thought was healed, returned to its former enchanted glory, was anything but.

  “Not quite the paradise you took it for, is it?” Cade’s laugh creeps up from behind. Teasing. Taunting. As I gape at the canopy of blooms I once viewed as vibrant, budding with life—now turned to a snarl of blackened dead vines infested with rats, left to droop over a horrible, putrid, rotting cesspool of a spring that smells just like death.

  Even the lawn of green velvet where Dace and I shared our love is nothing more than a burned-out rug swarming with insects.

  And the wounds I thought healed are now back—my finger once again throbbing, swollen, and red—my feet covered in seeping blisters that stick to my shoes.

  Dace lets loose a long stream of curses and yanks hard on my hand. Urging me to leave, to run, to get out while we can. But I can’t go just yet. There’s something still left to see.

  I whirl around, horrified by the monstrous sight that confronts me.

  My stifled cry of anguish cause Dace to turn. His eyes widen in disbelief when he sees the Cade from my nightmares. The one with gleaming red eyes, an open gash of a mouth, and the swarm of two-headed, soul-stealing snakes shooting out from the place where his tongue ought to be.

  But unlike the Cade from my dreams, this one swiftly expands as though molded and stretched by unseen hands. His flesh adopting a strange scaly texture, emitting an odd reddish glow—as his torso lengthens, his limbs bulk up and widen with thick corded muscles—while his clothes, no longer able to contain him, shred and disintegrate, falling like feathers to his enormous clawed feet. Leaving him massive and naked and looming before us, with his faithful coyote inflating right along with him—two sets of eyes glowering an identical red.

  Without a word, Dace drags me toward Horse. His good arm circling my waist, about to heave me onto his back when Horse gallops away and Raven soars with him. Leaving us with no choice but to race through a dying land that grows bleaker with each passing step.

  Our exodus mocked by Cade’s taunting voice, calling, “Run, brother! Run all you want. But you’ll never escape me. I’m your Echo—always with you—always watching.”

  eight

  “How long have you known?” Dace paces his small functional kitchen. Taking two steps to the old stove, one from there to the ancient white fridge, three more to the stained porcelain sink, and then one and a half to the stove again, where he pauses, rubs a weary hand over his eyes, and shoots me a look so conflicted, I hesitate to meet it.

  I drop onto a chair next to the carved wooden table that’s nearly identical to the one in Leftfoot’s adobe, wishing Dace would come join me. But realizing he won’t even consider it until I provide some of the answers he seeks, I take a fortifying breath and say, “Paloma told me about the circumstance of your birth—about Leandro altering Chepi’s perception long enough to seduce her.”

  “Seduce her?” Dace whirls on me, his face a mask of outrage. “He raped her. Chepi was a sixteen-year-old virgin that day. She wasn’t looking for trouble.”

  I shrink under his gaze, then force myself to straighten again, determined to explain. “I didn’t mean it like that—like it was some romantic tryst. What I meant to say is that he lured her. He lured her with witchcraft and black magick. The Richters know how to change people’s perception—they’ve been doing it for centuries. It’s how they rule this town and nearly everyone in it. It’s how Cade made us think the spring was still enchanted when it had already been corrupted. Leandro fed into her dreams, allowed her to see what she most wanted to see, and then, once she was completely enthralled…” I leave the sentence unfinished, seeing no reason to illustrate.

  Dace waves it away, batting the empty space before him, his eyes fatigued and red-rimmed in a way I’ve never seen them. “I’m the product of violence.” He shakes his head, his gaze cold and empty. “There’s no getting around it. I never should’ve been born.”

  “Don’t say that!” I grip the table hard, fighting the urge to leap over the counter that separates us and hug him tightly to me.
Right now he’s an island—a population of one. He wouldn’t welcome the intrusion.

  “Do you know how much easier her life would’ve been without me?” His voice is flat and dull. “Every time she looks at me she’s reminded of the worst day of her life.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I say. “And you shouldn’t either.”

  He dismisses my meaningful look, saying, “Really, Daire? Just how am I supposed to see it?” Practically spitting the words.

  I sit quietly, refusing to rise to the bait. I just stare at my hands, noting the way my finger grows more swollen and red with each passing second.

  “And, while we’re on the subject, how am I supposed to feel knowing you knew all of this and couldn’t bother to tell me?”

  I tip my chin until my gaze meets his. Aware that the word sorry doesn’t quite cut it, but it’s all that I’ve got. “I wish I’d told you, believe me, I do. I wish you never had to find out this way.” I shake my head and sigh. “Thing is, Paloma made me promise not to tell you. She said you’re a truly good and pure soul, and that it wasn’t my place. In this case, I’m sorry I listened to her instead of my heart.”

  “A good and pure soul?” He scowls. “I’m an abomination! The result of an act so evil—”

  “You’re not!” I cry, refusing to let him venture along that path. “That’s your brother, not you.” I shift my gaze to his arm, staring at the place where Coyote attacked. Wishing he’d let me do something to tend to it, but when I tried, he waved me away, reached for a dish towel and wrapped it around the wound.

  “He’s a monster.” He unwraps the blood-soaked dish towel and drops it into the sink, before replacing it with a clean one. And though the words came out like a statement, his gaze holds a question.

  “He is.” I nod to confirm it.