by Alyson Noel
Her anger dissolving the instant Dace slips an arm around her, murmuring in their native tongue. Then he leads us outside, where the three of us pause on the road, silent and awkward, until Chepi says, “I remember your father.”
Her eyes meet mine as I stand rooted before her, unsure how to react.
“You are just like him,” she adds, confusing me further.
Does she mean I’m impulsive and reckless?
Does she mean I’m destined to break her son’s heart just like Django broke Jennika’s—even though it wasn’t his fault?
Does she mean I’m part of a world she’s vowed to turn her back on, in an effort to protect herself—protect her son—and she resents my dragging him into it?
Does she mean all of those things, along with plenty more I’ve yet to think of?
I lower my lids, shutting her out in an effort to see with my heart, but all I get in return is a woman who’s deeply concerned for her son.
Dace moves to intervene, desperate to smooth things over, but he’s soon stopped by his mother who says, “Paloma was there for me when I needed her, and so I spent the last couple days doing what I could to return the favor. Though I never imagined my son, along with you, would come through when it really mattered.”
I duck my head and stare hard at my feet, unable to come up with a suitable reply. The sentiment was simple, hinting at kind, but the tone it was spoken in seemed accusatory at best. Then again, maybe I’m just tired, and maybe my fatigue is making me paranoid.
“It’s been many years since I observed Día de los Muertos—but perhaps today I should.” Her gaze lingers on mine in a way that reminds me of all the horrific, unthinkable things that happened to her on that day, when she was just a young girl my age.
She turns to her son, invites him to join her back at her house, but when he shakes his head in reply, she’s quick to turn and be on her way. “You be careful out there,” she says, the words drifting over her shoulder, more loaded than they appear.
She heads down the road, seeming to diminish the farther she goes, and when I’m sure she’s out of earshot, I turn to Dace and say, “Your mom hates me.”
He laughs, wraps an arm around me, and hugs me close to his side—the warmth of his body instantly emanating to mine. “She doesn’t hate you,” he says. “She just has to get used to the idea, that’s all.”
I peer at him, taking in a face so beautiful it’s almost hard to fathom. “Get used to what?” I ask, having no idea where he’s going with that.
Noting the way he flushes, looks away, stopping beside a beat-up white pickup truck when he says, “Of me having a girlfriend.”
I lean against the passenger door, trying to adjust to the thought. I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend. The word alone implies permanence, stability, longevity—all things I’ve long been denied.
Misreading my silence, along with the contemplative look on my face, he says, “Great, now I’ve scared you.” He rakes a hand through his hair, stares down at the dirt, but I reach for his sleeve and pull him back to me.
“After all we just went through, you think you can scare me so easily?”
He lifts his eyes to meet mine, face flooding with relief when he says, “Maybe we can just start with breakfast? There’s this great little tucked-away place that serves the best blue-corn pancakes in the state—though it might seem a little too normal compared to a soul retrieval.”
I look past his shoulder, spying the first rays of sun sneaking up the mountain range just behind him. And if I tilt my head just right, it turns him into a dark silhouette surrounded by a nimbus of brilliant gold light that matches the ones in his eyes. “Trust me.” I grin. “Normal is looking particularly good about now.”
“So it’s a yes, then?”
“To blue-corn pancakes or being your girlfriend?” I tease, enjoying the way his cheeks redden.
“Both would be great, but I’ll leave that to you.”
I bite down on my lip, realizing I’ve never been in this position before. It’s always been: Hey, meet you at the Pont Neuf at eight. Or, in Vane’s case: Meet you by the snake charmer at dusk. By the time the movie wrapped and the premiere rolled around, I always found myself sitting with Jennika. I’ve never had a real date, much less a boyfriend. Never even had the prospect of one until now.
Realizing he’s still waiting for an answer, I look at him and say, “Okay.”
“Okay to breakfast…” He tilts his head, studies me closely.
I take a deep breath, my heart beating triple time at what I’m about to do. “Okay to both.” I exhale softly. “Oh, and if I didn’t already say it—thanks.”
“For what?” His brows merge, as he studies me closely.
“For helping. For understanding. For not pushing me to explain things I’m not quite ready to answer. And for being so kind.”
He leans his head back in a way that leaves him gazing down at me. “Haven’t you heard?” He smiles. “I’m the good twin.”
I freeze, wondering how much he knows.
“You know—good twin, evil twin? Lame joke, I know. And according to the Bone Keeper, I’m also the Echo—what do you think she meant by that anyway?”
I shrug, watching as he shakes his head and moves to unlock my door, but just as he leans past me, I stop him. My fingers curling around his bicep, I pull him closer, and say, “I have no idea what an Echo is, but I’ve no doubt you’re the good twin.” And I kiss him under the rising sun.
fifty-four
We drive by the Rabbit Hole, and at first sight I can’t help but think it looks like the sight of a self-contained apocalypse. The doors are wide open, the bouncers are gone, and when Dace parks in the alleyway and peers inside, it’s clear that the place is abandoned—there’s not one person left.
“I don’t think the party’s ever ended this early,” he says. “It usually goes on until noon, if not later.”
I lean past him to get a better look, wondering if we might’ve had anything to do with that. If we might’ve had more effect on Cade’s plans than I thought. There may be Richters in the Lowerworld—it may not be a complete victory—but we retrieved Paloma’s soul, along with a whole host of the others that were restored to the citizens of Enchantment. No wonder they no longer want to be here—they finally got their mojo back.
“Think anyone will notice I never made it to work?” Dace glances my way, and I shrug in response. “Guess the only thing left is to make peace with Jennika.”
He checks both mirrors and merges onto the road, as I stare out the window, gazing upon streets littered with skull masks and marigolds—jagged bits of grinning teeth and flowering eye sockets gazing up from the asphalt, staring vacantly into space, as though mocking the very people who lost them.
“Good luck with that.” I turn to face him. “She’s predisposed to hate you. Convinced you’ll be my downfall. Says you’ve got heartbreaker written all over you.”
Dace grips the wheel tighter, eyebrows quirked, gaze stricken in a way that makes me feel bad for saying it, but it’s only a moment later when he laughs and says, “Funny, that’s the same thing Chepi said about you.” Addressing my confusion when he adds, “That day at the gas station, when I saw you sitting on the curb, talking on the phone—Chepi caught me looking and warned me right then and there to keep my distance, to not get involved.”
“Why do you think she said that?” I ask. “It’s such a strange thing to say about someone you’ve never met.”
Did she get an impression of me like I did of her? Is that why she hates me?
Dace reaches toward me and places his hand over mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze when he says, “That’s what mothers do.”
I lean back in my seat, determined to push it out of my mind. Staring blankly out my window as the truck bounces down the dirt road before pulling onto Paloma’s street that’s crowded with cars, one in particular I can’t help but notice.
Barely allowing Dace enough time to park b
efore I’m leaping from the truck and racing through the courtyard. Heart firmly wedged in my throat, as I bolt through the door, terrified by the thought of what I might find, only to see Jennika sitting at the kitchen table with Marliz right beside her. The two of them surrounded by a group of girls I recognize from school—all of them waiting their turn at a professional Hollywood makeover.
“Daire.” Jennika’s gaze slews toward me as she applies mascara to Lita’s top lashes. “I’ve been looking for you.” Then seeing Dace right beside me, she adds, “And why am I not surprised to find you together? You guys look terrible by the way. Where the hell have you been?”
I dismiss the question with a wave of my hand, my eyes frantically scanning the room, searching for Xotichl and relieved to find her curled up on the couch next to Auden—flashing me two thumbs up the second she senses me. Jacy and Crickett are there too, laughing and talking with some of Cade’s guy friends—all of them lounging on the woven rugs and chairs, no one seeming to notice that Cade Richter is missing.
My attention returning to Jennika, taking note of her disapproving glare, and knowing it’s time for us to hash through this mess and find a way to compromise.
“We need to talk.” She pushes away from the table, her expression turned grim.
Her flight interrupted by Lita, face only half-finished, who cries, “But you’re gonna finish me first though, right?”
Jennika shakes her head and motions for Marliz to take over. “I think she can take it from here,” she says, nodding for me to follow her into Paloma’s office.
Dace looks uncertain, but I drag him along. The two of us united before an angry Jennika, when he says, “You can blame me. I take full responsibility.” Which is probably one of the worst things he could’ve said. It’s an honorable attempt, but definitely not the best way to get on her good side, and when I see her sarcastic expression, I can’t help but cringe. “She was worried about Paloma,” he continues, desperate to make things right. “So I took her to the reservation to see her, and it must’ve worked because Paloma is better.”
Jennika smirks, her focus on me when she says, “So, I guess that settles it then.” She pushes away from the sink, as though it’s been decided that easily. Motioning for me to follow, and when I don’t, when I remain right beside Dace, she says, “We had a deal, Daire. Now that Paloma is better, it’s time to say good-bye to your friends and go back to L.A.”
I stand rooted in place. My eyes grazing over the herbs, the drum, the piles of books on the shelves—this is my home, I’m not going anywhere. Not when Paloma still has more to teach me. Not before I find a way to evict those Richters from the Lowerworld—not before I stop Cade in his insane quest for power—and maybe not even then.
Jennika places her hands on her hips, her voice rising in anger when she says, “Daire!” She glances between me and Dace, as though silently asking if I really want to do this in front of him. And while I’d really prefer not to, now that it’s started, I don’t feel like I have much of a choice.
“I’m not leaving,” I say, noting the look of outrage clearly displayed on her face. “I know you think it’s crazy, but I like it here, and I don’t want to leave. It’s as simple as that.”
Dace squeezes my hand, his palm warm and sure. But when my gaze meets his, it’s clear he’s way out of his comfort zone, so I tell him to wait in the den.
Barely making it halfway down the ramp before Jennika says, “He’s gonna have an awfully long wait, ’cause you’re coming with me.”
I sigh long and deep. Stare down at my feet. Arguing won’t get me anywhere. If I want to be heard, I’ll have to tread softly. Careful to keep my voice tempered, I say, “Jennika, what do you have against this place?”
She scowls, sweeps her arm wide, saying, “Isn’t it obvious? I want better for you than some dump of a town and a cute boy with no future.” She places her hand on her hip, clenches her jaw, and I struggle to remind myself that she truly means well, only wants the best for me, even though she’s not always sure what that is.
“But what if I like it here?” I lift my shoulders, fiddle with the torn hem of my jacket. “What if this dump of a town feels like home? What if I’m not even looking to that cute boy to provide my future—what if I’m perfectly capable of providing my own? What if I just want to see what it’s like to have a real home, a real family, real friends, and yeah, even a boyfriend? And what if this place can provide a sincere shot at all of those things—would you really deny me? Would you really insist on taking me to L.A. just because it feels better to you?” I suck in my breath, confident I lodged a good case, though Jennika’s not easily swayed.
“You can have all those things in L.A.! And trust me, it’s a much better, much nicer environment than this place could ever be. You just need to give it a chance, that’s all.”
“Or maybe you need to give me a chance,” I say, my words silencing her. “Why can’t you just give me this? One year of high school. If I blow it, fail, start getting in trouble, you’ll have every right to yank me, and there’ll be nothing I can do about it. But first, why can’t you just give me a chance to see how I do?”
“Because you’re not Paloma’s responsibility, you’re my responsibility!” she cries.
“But you can visit anytime—it’s not like it’s far. One year, Jennika. Please. Give it a chance. Give me a chance to see how I fare.”
She sighs, casts a glance all around. Focusing on the general vicinity of the den when she says, “You be careful with him. And don’t say I didn’t warn you, ’cause I did—more than once.”
I nod. Shoulders sinking with relief, knowing that’s Jennika’s way of giving in.
“Thank you,” I say, taking her by surprise when I rush toward her and hug her tightly to me. Pulling away and blinking back tears, finally realizing just how much I’ll miss her, no matter how much she annoys me sometimes.
The thought causing me to realize something else—how much Jennika probably misses me. I’m all she’s got. For sixteen years we’ve been a team. She’s purposely avoided getting close to anyone else. Even with Harlan, she’s careful to keep a safe distance. And while I know it frustrates him, he chooses to accept her on her limited terms. But as much as she tries to avoid it, there’s no doubt Jennika needs a home just as much as I do. She needs friends—a life outside of work. She needs all the things I now have for myself—only in L.A., not here.
“So what now?” I ask, a new idea forming in my head.
She sighs, folds her arms across her chest, looking tired when she says, “Well, now that you’re here, I guess I’ll grab a short nap, check in with Paloma, and be on my way.”
“What about your makeovers?” I motion toward the kitchen. “Looks like you’ve built quite a fan club.”
Jennika laughs, the sound light and weary, making her way down the ramp when I decide to just say it, just toss it out there and see where it lands.
“You know, if you’re looking for a roommate in L.A.…”
She stops, unsure where I’m going.
“Well, you might consider Marliz. I mean, I know she’s engaged and all—but he’s kind of a jerk, and—”
My words cut short when she says, “They broke up.”
I stare at her, speechless.
“It’s been a crazy night.” She lifts her shoulders, her gaze growing distant as she mentally reviews it. “The stuff I saw…” She shakes her head, causing her hair to flop in her eyes. “Well, I’m clearly running a serious sleep deficit.”
“So you’ll consider it, then? Asking her, I mean?” Jennika shrugs, pushing past me when I add, “Listen, I need to step outside—will you tell Dace I’ll be back in a minute?” Allowing her no time to reply before I’m slipping out the back door and making my way past the detached garage, through the gate, and halfway down the dirt road where a black, four-wheel-drive pickup truck is parked on the shoulder.
Barely making it to the driver’s side window when Cade says, “You hurt m
y feelings.” He shoots me a wounded look.
“I wasn’t aware that you had any.” I stand before him, gazing into those cold, vacant eyes.
“The way you just ran off like that—you didn’t even stick around to celebrate.” He shakes his head sadly. “Wasn’t the same without you. You know I had those sugar skull candies made especially for you, ended up feeding ’em to Coyote instead.”
“Sorry,” I say, my expression anything but. “I had a soul to retrieve.”
He nods, face thoughtful when he says, “I hear Paloma recovered.”
I lift my shoulders, my gaze locked on his. “Funny, I heard the same thing.”
“You must feel pretty good about yourself.” He squints, pushes his fingers through his hair, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror, and despite having left him engulfed in flames, he looks no worse for the wear.
“Actually, I think you’re underestimating it. I feel pretty damn awesome.”
His icy-blue eyes meet mine, striving to absorb my energy, my essence—trying to change my perception, make me see things his way—but it won’t work. I’m totally onto him.
“You know Lita’s inside? In fact, all of your friends are inside. And not one of them seems to miss you.”
He studies his hands, inspecting his cuticles, not saying a word.
“What’s the matter?” I taunt. “El Coyote can’t make it past Paloma’s coyote fence? Is that why you’re waiting out here, hoping they’ll come to you? ’Cause I gotta tell you, Richter, from what I saw, they’re not even thinking about you. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.”
“So, why don’t you invite me in, and we can remind them?” He grins, face lit with possibility.
“Never,” I say, but he laughs at the word.
“Saw you with my brother.” His gaze moves over me. “Guess that explains your attraction to me—he looks just like me.”
His cocky grin fading when I roll my eyes in response.
“Well, you sure spend a lot of time thinking about me—searching for me—don’t you, Santos?” he says, determined to make me admit the ridiculous.
