Echo (Soul Seekers)

by Alyson Noel

  thirty-nine

  Dace

  After stopping by my apartment and changing into jeans and a sweater, I head for the Rabbit Hole. Intending to collect the paycheck they owe me before I head into the Lowerworld for a final round with Cade.

  Or at least that’s the lie I tell myself.

  Truth is, I’m also hoping to see Daire.

  Hoping Lita and Xotichl will invite her to take part in the Enchantment Christmas Eve tradition.

  The brief time we spent together via the raven left me longing for more. And while I tell myself I’ll be satisfied with a glimpse, just a quick look before I go on my way—the second I see her heading for the entrance with her hair shiny and curled, her eyes bright and happy as she walks alongside Lita and Xotichl, it’s clear a mere glance will never suffice.

  I want to share the space where she stands—breathe the same air.

  I want to feel her in my arms—surrender to the very sweetness of her.

  She enters the club with her friends while I force myself to stay put—ensuring my entrance lapses well behind hers.

  As sweet as it was, her visit via the raven was not without risk. Until I make good on my plan, there’s no point in chasing her. No point in strengthening Cade any more than we have.

  Still, that doesn’t stop my eyes from greedily devouring every square inch, the whispered mantra of soon playing at the edge of my lips.

  Soon we’ll be together.

  Soon she’ll stand alongside me.

  When enough time has passed, I breeze past the bouncer, refusing that ridiculous red coyote stamp he tries to mark on my flesh, and head into the club. Bypassing the bar where everyone gathers, I make for the offices in back where I stand before Leandro’s closed door. Fist raised and ready to knock, when I hear a pair of angry voices seeping through the wood.

  I press my ear to the jamb, in order to better eavesdrop on Leandro berating Cade in a way I’ve never heard.

  “I get back in town to find this?”

  A hand strikes hard on a desk.

  Leandro’s hand.

  Leandro’s desk.

  “What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your freaking mind?”

  “If you’ll just let me explain—” Cade’s voice pitches high, but Leandro’s unmoved by his tone.

  “Explain what? That you’re single-handedly destroying our wealth? Risking everything I’ve worked my entire life to accumulate?”

  “But that’s the thing—this tourmaline…” Cade starts, not getting very far before Leandro cuts in.

  “You think I don’t know about the tourmaline? What the hell is wrong with you? We’ve been hoarding it for years—how do you think those mines got there? Every time we breach the Lowerworld, we take what we can and stash it away for future sale. Its rarity is what drives its price. It’s the philosophy behind any nonessential luxury item. You overprice it well beyond its value—release it in very limited supply—and before you know it, everyone is clamoring for a piece. Believing they can exalt themselves merely by owning the very thing everyone wants but few can claim. But now you come along and ignorantly flood the tourmaline market—effectively driving down the price and nearly gutting our wealth! Do you have any idea the kind of damage you’ve done?”

  “You’re wrong.” Cade’s voice is smug and sure. “The cash is pouring in. And there’s absolutely no overhead—the labor is free! I’m surprised you can’t see the brilliance of my plan. It’s all good, Dad. The Lowerworld is corrupted, and soon the Middle- and the Upperworlds will follow. And with the money pouring in, and the people left without guidance, it won’t be long before we rule all. Just give it time—you’ll see.”

  “The labor is free? Is that what you think?” Leandro makes a sound of extreme exasperation. “The Rabbit Hole is a bar, Cade! And the success of this bar depends on the number of drinkers who show up each day. Drinkers, who, I come to find out, you’ve kidnapped for your own ridiculous uses. So, not only are you destroying the tourmaline business, but you’re taking the bar along with it.”

  “But, Dad—”

  “You listen to me—you will stop this nonsense immediately. Not only have you destroyed the value of the stone in a way that will take years to recover, but, if you don’t put an end to this right now, you will destroy the very value of this town. Do you have any idea how hard I work to keep us off the radar? Do you have any idea why I do that? You kid yourself that you’re so far ahead of me because your ambitions reach further—when, in fact, you are burning a path of destruction I may never be able to fix. The last thing we need is for the eyes of the world to turn to Enchantment. But with the population declining, how long do you think we can keep those disappearances out of the news? There are pictures of the missing plastered all over the alleyway. And this is all because of you and your ridiculous, immature, ill-conceived plan!”

  “But, Dad, if you’ll just—”

  “Go!”

  “What?” Cade’s voice falls somewhere between a whimper and a whine.

  “Now! Go! Get out of my office—out of my sight. And don’t come back until you’ve cleaned up this mess.”

  A low growl erupts. The eerily, familiar sound cut short by Leandro’s voice. “Don’t you even think about shifting in front of me or anyone else, for that matter. You’ve caused enough grief for one night. Get a grip on yourself.”

  The door slams open but not before I’ve slipped into the shadows and pressed myself hard against the wall. Going unnoticed as Cade storms out of the office, so consumed by his rage, his entire body trembles with fury.

  He struggles against it. Tries hard to stop it. Contain it. If for no other reason than to placate Leandro.

  But he’s too far gone. The shifting’s become so ingrained, it’s no longer his to control.

  Barely making it halfway down the hall before he turns into the beast I know well.

  The beast I was hoping to see.

  I stare hard at his back, narrowing my focus until I’ve projected myself into his skin. Making the soul jump in the way Leftfoot taught me. Delving into his depths and exploring every dark facet, every shadow-drenched corner. Until I’m left gaping in wonder at the the bleak and wretched state of his soul.

  Guided by his most primal, unbridled desires to slay and screw, conquer and consume—at first glance he appears animalistic—just your everyday beast. Though a deeper look reveals a mad quest for personal exaltation and ego gratification that makes him dangerously human.

  I drag out the visit—lingering, stretching, making myself at home in his skin. Exploring the rawness of his anger, the very core of his malevolence, the naked brutality that drives all his actions. And despite my initial revulsion, despite my complete abhorrence for all that I see, I waste no time in claiming a sizeable chunk of that darkness for me. Needing to examine it—understand it—in order to conquer it.

  My body strains against it, struggles to reject it, to sever our connection for good. But my resolve to possess my brother’s power, to feel his evil flowing inside me, prevails. And the longer I stay, the more I’m able to claim, until the surge of his strength reveals a truth I could only guess at before.

  Just as he’s able to tap into my love for Daire that drives me, I can tap into the unadulterated evil that drives him. And that’s just what I do. Absorbing all that I can, well aware that the power I steal is power my brother can’t use against Daire.

  My body convulses. My blood boils violently through my veins, scorching and burning and cooking my insides, leaving a horrible pock on my skin. The pain so excruciating, I stagger forward, grasp myself low at the waist. Left gasping and shivering, unable to stop my breath from coming too hectic and fast, I slide my eyes shut and wait for it to pass. Committed to enduring this for however long it takes. Having no plans to surrender. With my brother’s power now roiling within me, my original plan has changed. Instead of stealing his power to weaken him, I will use what I’ve taken to destroy him.

  Leftfoot’s warn
ing a faint echo in my head: You must never abuse the gift. Ever. I can’t stress this enough. You use this gift if, and only if, you find that you must. You must first exhaust all other options. It is meant to be a last resort.

  This is a last resort. The only real option left.

  The only way to conquer Cade is to claim a piece of Cade—become Cade—albeit temporarily.

  It’s like the lesson Leftfoot unwittingly shared with me: Sometimes you must venture into the darkness to bring forth the light.

  Which is exactly what I’m doing. It’s the finishing touch on the choice I made in the sweat lodge. Hazarding the darkness to save Daire—the light of my life.

  It’s a risk.

  One that puts my very soul as stake.

  Still, there’s no price too high to save Daire.

  Besides, I have no intention of losing.

  As soon as it’s done, I’ll cast out my brother’s shadow and return to myself.

  Only better.

  Purer.

  For I will have confronted the very worst of men and lived to tell the tale.

  I lift my head, watching as my brother ambles toward the vortex. The sight causing my blood to cool, my pulse to regulate, and when he bursts through the wall, our connection is severed.

  All except for the piece of him lodged deep within me.

  I stand before Leandro’s door, stealing a few moments to center myself. And when I’m back to being the Dace everyone knows and expects, or at least on the surface anyway, I push inside and take my brother’s place before Leandro’s desk.

  forty

  Daire

  “What’s this?” I pause just shy of the entrance. Peering down the alleyway at a throng of people standing before a wall plastered with pictures, flickering tapered candles clutched in their hands.

  “Candlelight vigil for the missing.” Lita chases the words with a groan. “As if this town isn’t depressing enough.”

  I glance among the photos, recognizing many of the faces from Cade’s bogus job fair, as Lita steers Xotichl and me away from the crowd and inside the club. Easing into her usual smiling, waving, air-kissing routine, she turns to us and in a mocking voice says, “Hello-hello! Kiss-kiss! Wave-wave!” She frowns and shakes her head. “What am I—the freaking welcome wagon?” Spying Jacy and Crickett waiting in the usual place, she purposely veers the opposite way. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep it going. I’m so freaking sick of this scene that for the first time ever, I’m actually considering early retirement. If Phyre’s so eager to replace me, let her. She can be the new queen, for all I care.”

  “You sure you want to give up the crown?” Xotichl teases. “Without so much as a fight?”

  “Being this popular is a total energy suck.” Lita sighs. “You have no idea. I have literally known these people all of my life, yet I’m still expected to act overjoyed whenever I see them. If we could just get some more new students at Milagro—ones that aren’t girls—I might reconsider. But look at them…” She motions toward a group of boys sharing the same table as Crickett and Jacy. “I’ve kissed every one of those dorks, and trust me when I say they got way more out of it than I did.” She makes a face, turning to me as she adds, “If you go to LA to visit Jennika, you have to promise to take me with you. Seriously. I’ll curl up in your carry-on—I’m so not joking. Think of it as a rescue mission. Only you’ll be rescuing me from the very real risk of dying of boredom.”

  I try to picture Lita in LA, deciding she’d probably like it so much I’d end up returning to Enchantment without her.

  “We can spend our days shopping and going to the beach, and at night you can take me to all the celebrity hot spots. How does that sound?”

  “Better in your head than in reality,” I say, my gaze drifting, on the lookout for Cade but catching a glimpse of Dace instead. And while I’m happy to see him up and about, the fact that he’s here doesn’t bode well for my plans. Now more than ever, I need to get to Cade before Dace can make good on the scheme he hinted at.

  I force myself to turn away and focus on my friends, knowing better than to keep my attention on Dace. Though it’s only a moment later when Lita taps my shoulder and says, “Uh, maybe you should go break up that party. I trust that girl about as far as I can fling her.”

  She gestures toward the place where Dace stood by himself just a few seconds earlier, only now Phyre is with him. Inching toward him. Crowding his space. Not seeming to notice or care how he leans away, purposely sways from her reach. And while part of me longs to march right over and demand to know what she’s up to, the other part, the smarter part, stays rooted in place.

  “Seriously.” Lita nudges me, a little harder this time. “Aren’t you going to do something to stop her from stealing your man?” She shoots me a look of outrage. “Why are you acting so passive? I don’t get it. It seems so unlike you.”

  I’m just about to respond, when Xotichl speaks for me. “You can’t steal another person, Lita. They either go willingly or they don’t. And if they do go willingly, then good riddance—you’re better off without them.”

  Lita’s eyes narrow, weighing Xotichl’s words as she fiddles with her Marilyn piercing, while I force myself to look anywhere but at Dace. Whatever he and Phyre are discussing is none of my business.

  “Okay,” Lita says. “Even if Xotichl’s right—and I fully and reluctantly admit that she is—there’s no doubt Phyre is poaching. And I think she needs to know that you’re totally on to her and that it’s neither appreciated nor cool. It’s a tough world out there, and us girls need to stick together. We’ve got to quit with the backstabbing, bitching, and competing for boys as though they’re some kind of grand freaking prize.”

  “You’ve come a long way,” I quip, remembering how poorly she treated me on my first day of school.

  “Yes, I have.” She shoots me a tight-lipped grin. “And just so you know, if you don’t march yourself over to Ms. Phyre Youngblood and repeat everything I just said—I’ll happily do it for you.”

  I shake my head, allow my gaze to settle on Dace for a moment. Long enough to glean a bit of his warmth, before I look away and say, “Things are complicated with Dace…”

  “They’re taking a little break,” Xotichl cuts in, supplying a truth that’s too painful for me to admit.

  “What? Exactly when did this happen? Are you saying we’re both single now? Does that mean I’m competing against you?” Lita squints, trying to decide how she feels about that.

  “Competing for what?” Xotichl says. “You just said girls have to stop competing for boys. You also said there’s not a single interesting boy in this town.”

  “True.” Lita turns to face Xotichl. “And I meant every word of it. What can I say? Sometimes there’s a bit of a delay in putting my words into practice. Besides, the whole thing’s moot. You snagged the only good guy to be had in these parts. Where is Auden, by the way?”

  Xotichl tilts her head to the side. “He just arrived.”

  Lita and I look toward the door, where, sure enough, Auden stands, scoping the room, searching for Xotichl.

  “How do you do that? How does she do that?” Lita glances between us, but I just shrug in response. I’m too busy forcing myself not to obsess over Dace.

  “I’m here to collect,” Auden says, working his way toward Xotichl. “Unless something drastic happens in the next few hours, the most we can hope for is a wet Christmas, not a white Christmas.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.” Xotichl grins. “Don’t you know it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings and the white stuff drifts from the sky?”

  I look at them. Hardly able to believe I’d been so busy trying to find answers in the codex, trying to rearrange the prophecy in my head and come up with some kind of plan, that I forgot about the snow.

  Forgot about the one thing that’s still—maybe—within my realm of control.

  “I’ll be back!” I turn away from my friends.

  “Where you goin
g?” Lita calls, as Xotichl’s face creases with worry.

  “I’m going to give Xotichl her white Christmas.” I speed toward the exit, leaving Lita, Xotichl, and Auden staring after me.

  forty-one

  Dace

  I barely make it halfway down the hall before Phyre finds me. Like she’s brandishing some sort of invisible radar that’s programmed to track only me.

  She steps free of the shadows, stands right before me, and says, “Hey, Dace.” Her voice soft, her smile pretty.

  But it’s the wrong pretty.

  Not the pretty I seek.

  I nod in acknowledgment. Start to move away. Stopped by her fingers circling my wrist as she pulls me back to her.

  “Can we talk?”

  I slide my eyes closed. Search for a kind way to tell her to quit thinking of me. Quit stalking me. To leave the past where it belongs—dead and buried.

  Opening my eyes again to find myself staring at Daire on the other side of the room, unwilling to break the gaze now that I’ve found her.

  “You’re always in such a hurry. You never have any time for me.” Phyre tugs on my arm. Using the tip of her fingernail to trace light circles over my skin in a desperate bid to claim my attention.

  I drag my gaze from Daire and focus on Phyre. “There’s nothing to talk about.” I twist free of her grip.

  “You say that—but how can you be sure?” She cocks her head to the side, allowing a spray of curls to slide across her cheek. It’s a well-rehearsed, overplayed move. “For starters, aren’t you curious as to why I came back?”

  I just shoot her a patient look, hoping it’ll help speed things along.

  “It’s no accident, you know.”

  “If memory serves—nothing you do is an accident,” I say, remembering all the random times she seemed to just happen to be in the same place as me. How it took a while to realize there was nothing random about it. Though it’s not like I cared. I was just happy to be noticed by a female who wasn’t my mom. The fact that Phyre was so pretty was an added boon.

  “You were always so quiet, so introspective. It wasn’t easy to get your attention.”