Quaile’s body tensed, her face only showing a small portion of the relief I was expecting. She muttered something under her breath too quiet for me to catch. “What do you mean you found a shaman with more talent than I have?” she demanded.
At least she wasn’t trying to deny the part about compassion. “I meant exactly what I said, Quaile. Kaya is much more talented than you are, unless you were lying when you said you didn’t know when Claire and I would meet our Twin Souls.”
“I wasn’t lying, Uriah. I had no way of knowing when that would happen,” Quaile said. She was about to start on one of her angry tirades, then she stopped. “You mean to tell me that the other shaman knew when you would meet your Twin Soul?”
“Ten years, Quaile,” I said. “I wouldn’t have met her for ten years.”
“Ten years.” Quaile sank into the rocking chair she had been standing next to.
“Ten years. If we had known that, everything could have been different. You jumped to conclusions, thinking you were the absolute authority, and look what happened. You caused this, Quaile.”
Quaile’s eyes darted back up to me. “Uriah, I had no way of knowing. You can’t expect me to take blame for what I didn’t know. I thought I was making the right decision. You cannot blame me for that.”
“It wasn’t your decision to make, Quaile!”
“I am the shaman. I have to lead the tribe, Uriah. I have to make the decisions I think are right for the tribe, for each person,” she said. Her face was defiant, but her eyes were pleading for understanding.
“Being the shaman doesn’t mean telling everyone how to live their lives, Quaile. You have to trust people if you expect them to trust you. You should have let Claire and I make the choice once you gave us your warnings. You should have told me about the Matwau and you certainly should have told me that I was the Qaletaqa.” I waited for her reaction to my last words. I didn’t have to wait long.
Quaile’s eyes flew open as wide as they could go. Her ancient hands clutched her skirt, turning her knobby knuckles pale. “She told you that?” she asked breathlessly.
I didn’t need to answer. I folded my arms across my chest and waited for her explanation.
“You are the Qaletaqa, the Guardian of the People.”
My fists balled in fury. When I mentioned the Qaletaqa, I hadn’t been completely sure Quaile had known, but now she had revealed herself. She blatantly lied when she said she didn’t know what her vision meant.
“How long have you known,” I asked.
“Since the day you were born.”
I exploded with rage. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “I could have been preparing myself for this. Now I’m about to run off and face down the Matwau with nothing but my bare hands and a hope that I’ll find a way to survive. How could you have kept that to yourself?”
“I…I thought I would have more time. I would have told you, but only when you needed to know, only when you were ready,” she said. Her head dropped in shame.
“He’s kidnapped my Twin Soul, Quaile. He has her right now,” I said.
“What?” Quaile asked. “Now? He has her now?”
I studied her features. She looked genuinely shocked. “You didn’t know that?”
“No, I had no idea,” she said. Her eyes closed in concentration. She gasped after a few seconds and stared at me. “It’s so faint! The pull of bond, I didn’t even feel it surrounding you when you walked in.”
Perhaps ten times was too little. Kaya’s talents dwarfed Quaile’s. “He took her this morning and he’s holding her as bait. He wants me to come to him so he can kill me. I can feel where she is. I know she’s scared that he’ll kill her.”
“Then why are you here?” Quaile asked. She rose to her feet again. “You have to go to her. There is no time to waste, Uriah. The Matwau will kill her if you don’t go after her. You cannot abandon her.”
My eyes narrowed in anger. Quaile claimed she knew what the right choices were for my life, but she had proved again how little she knew about me. “Of course I’ll go after her, Quaile. Do you think I would let her die just to save myself from confronting the Matwau?”
Quaile looked at me in confusion. “Then what are you doing here?” she asked.
I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the metal thermos, slamming it on the table. “I had to bring this to Claire first,” I said. My anger fell away at the sight of it.
“The potion to sever the Twin Soul bond?” Quaile asked, though I had no idea what else she might think it was. “Why are you bringing it to me? Why not take it directly to Claire?”
“I can’t. She has to ask for it, and I can’t give it to her myself or she’ll feel pressured to drink it,” I said.
“I didn’t tell her where you were or what you were doing,” Quaile said.
“I didn’t think you would,” I said. It was most likely the only time I would find myself grateful for Quaile’s stinginess. “I can’t ask her to drink this. I can’t ask her to give up the Twin Soul bond. I would never ask her to give up something so precious, anyway. It has to be her choice. She has to drink it freely, with no regrets.”
I studied Quaile’s reaction to the potion and my words. She was the one who had sent me to Hano. She told me where to find a way to break the bond. Her belief that Claire and I should get to be together if we really wanted to, had been what pushed her to send me to Hano. She wanted us to have the choice. Relief or happiness should have graced her features, but neither of those were present. Instead, her mouth turned down and her hand tightened on the chair arm.
“When I told you about the Hano Shaxoa, I thought it was a long shot. I had heard rumors of this woman who claimed not to be a Shaxoa,” Quaile said. “She was said to be powerful, but untrained. Apparently the Hano Tewa had a very powerful Shaxoa with them when they left the pueblo. This woman, Samantha, collected the Shaxoa’s work and decided to study it. She had no one to teach her, though, no one to warn her of the consequences of what she was doing.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You said all Claire has to do is drink the potion freely and she’ll be fine. Did the Shaxoa know that for sure, or was it only a guess?” Her face was impassive as she asked. Mine gave in to worry, tightening against my will.
“It isn’t for sure,” I said tightly, “but Samantha has studied this most of her life. She was sure the potion was originally created for good. If Claire takes it because she wants it, she’ll be fine.” There was more hope than confidence in my voice. I had spent much of the drive back to San Juan worrying about the effects of the potion. Quaile was no Shaxoa, but she did seem to know a lot about their work. I had hoped her reaction would be different, reassuring in some way.
Looking at me thoughtfully, Quaile didn’t speak for several minutes. She waited as if weighing a very important decision in her mind. Was she trying to judge Samantha’s work and motivations? I was being forced to trust her because she was the only one who knew enough to help me. For once, I needed her to be honest, to tell me whether or not this was going to hurt Claire.
Finally her body relaxed slightly. “I think the Shaxoa was right. I don’t think Claire will be harmed if she takes the potion willingly, which I believe she will.”
“Have you spoken to her about it?” I asked. My stomach clenched as I thought of what Claire must have been going through the past few days. I had to leave. There was no other way, but leaving her again hurt me worse than being with her ever had.
“No, I haven’t,” Quaile said, “but she has made her feelings known. I can barely think of her without doubling over in pain. I may not be as good at foretelling as I lead people to believe, but I have always been very talented at sensing distress. That’s why I live so far away from town. If I am too close to people, I can feel their pain as strongly as they do. I can barely function when I am surrounded by that. But no matter how hard I try to stay away from Claire, I can still feel her pain. It is unbearable. I’ve nev
er felt someone else’s emotions so strongly. I have never felt such anguish before.”
My heart stung at the mention of Claire’s pain. Although, I was glad Quaile had been forced to share it. “No doubt you feel her pain so strongly because you’re partly to blame for what she’s going through,” I said. Quaile nodded miserably. I was glad to know that Quaile wasn’t escaping the consequences of her choices. Perhaps sharing in Claire’s pain would strengthen her ability to empathize with the people she was supposed to be guiding.
“I am sorry, Uriah,” Quaile said. “I handled this badly. You have every right to blame me for what has happened. The Elders have punished Thomas Brant for his part, but I am the one they should be spurning. My pride has fooled me so many times before, but never like this. I am so sorry, Uriah. I hope you will forgive me one day.”
I sighed. In spite of my angry words I had already forgiven her. “Quaile, I do forgive you,” I said. She looked up at me, her face pursed in confusion. “No matter what lies you told me, or what other information you kept back from me, you gave me hope. After the bond formed between Claire and Daniel, I felt so lost. I was going to let the Matwau kill me. If you hadn’t told me about Samantha in Hano, I wouldn’t be here talking to you now.
“You gave me hope enough to keep going, and even if Samantha hadn’t been able to help me, the search, and meeting Kaya and Samantha gave me the chance to think about what I’d almost done. It would have been a horrible mistake. I see that now. If for nothing else, I owe you thanks for keeping me alive,” I said. “So thank you, Quaile, but I still expect you to repay me for everything else you’ve done. I need your help now.”
“Of course, Uriah,” Quaile quickly agreed. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to take this,” I said, offering her the thermos. “Hold onto it for me. When Claire asks for it, give it to her, please.”
“Why would she come to me? I’m the last person she would ask for help after everything that’s happened.”
Old frustration bubbled up. I didn’t want to trust Quaile with this. I didn’t want to ask her for help either. But I was out of options, and soon, Claire would be too. “When Claire runs out of people to ask for help, she’ll come to you because she’ll be desperate. But even if she doesn’t, you have to be the one to offer her help.”
Quaile grimaced. We both knew how much she enjoyed offering help, but in the end, she nodded. “If she doesn’t come soon, I will tell her I’ve found something that might help her.”
“When she comes,” I warned, “don’t pressure her in any way. That is extremely important, Quaile. Put aside whatever feelings you might have, and let her make the choice. You don’t know what Claire wants no matter what you think. Only she can know what her heart truly feels.”
“I promise, Uriah. I will let her choose with no influence from me.” Quaile accepted the thermos warily, acting as though she thought it would jump up and bite her. I suppose she would have handled anything like that if she thought it was made from evil. I had no time to explain why Samantha believed it could be used as an agent of good just as easily as pure evil. Quaile would just have to trust me. Which was scary since trust didn’t come very naturally to her.
“Do you have one for yourself?” Quaile asked suddenly.
“A potion? No,” I said.
“But how will you rescue your Twin Soul without giving in to the bond? You can’t expect Claire to drink this only to be told later that you found someone else,” Quaile said.
“We’ll come to that when we come to it, Quaile. I could only make the potion for Claire. If I need a potion as well, I can’t make it for myself. Claire will have to do it for me, and I know she will, if it comes to that,” I said. “I don’t plan on letting myself be taken in by the Twin Soul bond. I’ll fight it just as hard as Claire has been fighting hers.”
Guilt bubbled up, begging me to change my mind about seeing Claire. I wouldn’t put her in danger. There was no telling what the Matwau would decide to do if Claire was standing right in front of him. His creatures weren’t limited like he was. I pulled a scrap of paper out of my back pocket and handed it to Quaile.
“Kaya wanted to speak with you. If you have any concerns about the potion you can talk to her and Samantha about them,” I said. Quaile took the paper. Her face was skeptical. “You could learn a few things from them, Quaile. I trusted them enough to bring the potion back. You should trust them too.”
Quaile nodded her head. She stared at the thermos in her hands. “Are you sure you trust them enough to ask Claire to drink this?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What about Daniel?”
“He’ll probably forget the bond as soon as Claire drinks this. He’ll remember meeting Claire, and everything, but I think everything he felt for Claire will just start to fade. He’ll be fine,” I said.
Quaile set the thermos on the table next to her. Stepping toward me, Quaile looked unsure of what to do next. She settled with patting my shoulder gently. “Be careful, Uriah. I’m sorry I don’t have anything more helpful to offer you,” she said. For once, I believed her. “Come back to Claire. She needs you.”
“And I need her,” I said.
Quaile’s hand dropped, and I turned away to hide the tears in my eyes. I had nothing left to say. I walked out of the house, the old door banging closed behind me, and went straight to my motorcycle. I pulled the link of fear to the front of my mind and brought the bike’s engine to a roaring start.
“Please wait for me, Claire,” I whispered to the desert sky. “Please wait for me.”
Dust flew around me as I left San Juan one more time. For the last time.
29: Wrong
I pushed the door open and sprinted to the truck. Flinging my bag into the passenger’s seat, I climbed into the cab. What my dad told me, it scared me almost as much as the thought of losing Uriah. It frightened me enough to push the bond away almost completely. I jammed the keys into the ignition, determined to see Quaile if it killed me. The old motor groaned and whined as it nudged itself awake. Rocks and dust billowed behind me as I pulled onto the road.
Bouncing along the roads that led to Quaile’s house, I rehearsed what I would say to her. My imagination ran wild. Everything from begging her on my knees to slapping her in the face played out in my mind. I reminded myself of every tidbit I had been told since waking up. Every lie, every half-truth and omission, every betrayal was etched in my mind.
I would drag every one of them out and toss them in her face if I had to. She owed Uriah for what she had done to him, and she owed me for taking him away from me. Uriah made every decision with me in mind. I treasured how thoughtful he was, but on occasion his thoughtfulness outweighed common sense. He should never have left me behind. It was rare that he was wrong about anything, but this was one of those times. How did he expect me to fight the Twin Soul bond without him near me, without his arms wrapped around me and his lips whispering how much he loved me whenever I needed to hear it?
Knowing how manipulative Quaile could be, I wondered whether the idea of leaving me behind had been Uriah’s at all. If Quaile thought it best that I was left to fend for myself, she would have done her best to see it happen. She told me to my face that I had to fight this alone. It was hard to imagine Uriah bending to her will, but he had left San Juan at her suggestion. My pondering of that question was cut short when I pulled up to Quaile’s forlorn looking house.
I turned off the engine and sat staring at her front door. Suddenly every scenario, every practiced speech melted right out of me. If she refused to tell me where he was, what could I really do? Shaking my head, I reached for the truck’s door handle. I would worry about that later, if I had to at all. Steeling myself for a battle, I got out of the truck and walked up to Quaile’s front door.
I raised my hand to knock, but the door cracked open first. Quaile stared at me with the strangest expression. It was a mix between pain, relief, and anxiety. Usually either calm or an
gry, this strange expression made me step back. Quaile hesitated before opening the door and stepping aside.
“Come in, Claire,” Quaile said. “I’ve been expecting you.”
My face wrinkled in confusion. She was acting like she had been waiting for me, when she was the one who told me I was on my own, blatantly refusing to help me in any way. She wouldn’t even answer my phone calls. Assuming that she was merely trying to pretend she hadn’t been avoiding me, I ignored her odd demeanor and stepped past her.
“Expecting me? You knew I would come?” I asked.
Shutting the door firmly, Quaile stalked across the room and sat at her kitchen table. She motioned for me to follow her. Pushing down even more irritation, I took the chair across from her. Quaile settled herself and brought her piercing gaze to rest on me. I couldn’t help but draw back, just a tiny bit. Her eyes could be very unsettling.
“You’ve been pestering Uriah’s mother for answers. She fears and respects me too much to ever betray me. I knew you would show up here eventually,” she said. “Who else would you go to when Lina refused? I’m the only other choice.”
My face screwed into a haughty sneer. “Now that’s not true, Quaile, is it?”
“What do you mean?” she snapped.
I just glared at her. I wasn’t ready to play that card yet. I would get as much out of her as I could without revealing what I knew. Getting her to talk would be difficult, but I knew that whatever I did manage to squeeze out of her on my own, there would certainly be more she was hiding. That’s when I would tell her what my dad told me.
“Why are you here?” Quaile asked angrily.
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