by Alyson Noel
If she can’t get the twins, will she go after Chepi?
Or is she simply licking her wounds with a visit to her childhood haunts?
The raven grows fidgety, hungry. Irritated by this extended bout of hospitality, he wastes no time in squeezing me out. Leaving me to wake with a start, surprised to find myself draped in Dace’s arms as Kachina races furiously beneath us.
“What happened?” With bleary eyes I squint toward the horizon, trying to determine our location. “Where are we? Where are we going?” I gaze up at Dace, noting the look of extreme apprehension masking his face. The way he keeps looking behind us, as though we’re being chased.
“I’ll fill you in later.” He drags hard on the reins, urging Kachina to a much slower pace, though it takes her a while to obey. She’s lathered and restless and as spooked as Dace seems to be. “You okay?” He presses his lips to my hair, clutches me tighter against him.
I nod, shift deeper into his arms, and peer past his shoulder. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to worry about. Whatever it was, it seems to have passed.
“What’d you see?” His voice is tight, distracted, as he peers behind us again.
“I watched Phyre try to get with your brother. But I intervened before it could go anywhere.”
“Cade was into it?” Dace greets the news with a look I can’t read.
Is he surprised? Disappointed? Jealous? Or is that just me, projecting my own conflicting emotions onto him?
“I think he was more amused than anything,” I finally say. “It seemed like he was kind of stringing her along. You know how he loves his little games.”
Dace flattens his lips in reply.
“Can I ask you something?” I pause, unsure exactly how to proceed. But I need to know, so I force myself to press on. “This’ll probably sound weird, but—was Phyre a really wet kisser?”
Just as I expected, Dace shoots me an incredulous look.
“I know it sounds crazy,” I say, my voice hurried, eager to explain. “And the only reason I ask is because she kept wetting her lips till they were all gloppy and dripping. And, even before that, I watched her spit on her hand and stare at her own saliva like she was totally transfixed by the sight of it. And I’m wondering if it has something to do with that weird vial she drank from?”
Dace shifts uncomfortably, looks behind him again, even though we both know whatever it was he was worried about is now gone. “A preoccupation with saliva doesn’t ring any bells,” he finally says, reluctantly voicing the words. “As for the vial—who knows? Knowing Suriel, it’s probably holy water—specially blessed by his own crazy, delusional self.”
“Okay, so basically she’s just a weird girl, then.” I lift my shoulders, aware of a slight rush of blood coloring my cheeks.
“I think we’ve already confirmed that.” Dace’s bottom lip tugs at the corners, but the mirth is short lived. Next thing I know, he’s back to peering behind us, as I take a moment to look all around, trying to get my bearings and figure out where we are.
“Are we anywhere near the reservation?” I ask.
“We can be. Why?”
“Phyre was headed there when I lost contact. It might not mean anything, but I think we should check in, see what she’s up to. Make sure Chepi’s safe.”
“I don’t think Phyre would hurt Chepi. She looked to her like a mother after her own mother went missing.” Dace speaks with confidence, but I’m not convinced. I wouldn’t put anything past her.
“Yeah, well, she also claims to be madly in love with you, and yet, look what happened there. Her father gave her strict orders to kill you, and it’s not like she warned you.”
That’s all it takes to convince him to nudge Kachina toward the reservation. After stopping by Chepi’s and learning she’s not home, we’re on our way to Leftfoot’s when I spot Phyre’s dirty white car parked just before the grove of twisted juniper trees.
“She knows about the Lowerworld?” I shift my gaze between the vortex and Dace, catching the deeply troubled look on his face, but he just shrugs in reply.
Quick to dismount, he offers a hand and helps me down as well. Then we step between the grove of trees and leap into the vortex that sees us tunneling deep into the earth before landing in a heap. We take a moment to collect ourselves, take a good look around. The surrounding landscape just as frozen as the last time I came here with Lita and Xotichl.
“This isn’t natural.” Dace’s eyes narrow. His lips fall flat and grim. “Of all the years I’ve been coming to the Lowerworld, I’ve never seen it like this.”
“I’m afraid the snow is my doing.” I make a guilty face. “It was my dying wish—only now, it won’t seem to stop.”
Dace studies me for a moment, then turns to survey the land once again. “And where’s Horse? He’s always here to greet me.”
“My guess is he’s hibernating.” I rub my palms together in an attempt to keep warm. “I haven’t seen Raven either. Not since Christmas Eve. And until this is settled, I don’t expect to. But the real question is, where’s Phyre? Where do you think she went?” I study Dace’s profile, his high, sculpted cheekbones, his wide brow, as he squints against the glare and looks all around.
He shakes his head, runs a hand through his glossy sheet of hair, but it’s not exactly the answer I was looking for. I need something more.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to ask the question that leaves me feeling more than a little intrusive. More than a little ashamed. At the risk of sounding like a nosy, jealous girlfriend, I say, “Dace, did you and Phyre ever come here together?” I clamp my lips shut before I can say anything more. My desire to hear his most heartfelt denial, in direct conflict with my need for a good jumping-off point. The Lowerworld is huge. Any hint on where to start looking would be a big help.
“I never came here with her.” He leans toward me, takes my hands in his. Squeezing them warmly, he says, “Daire, you need to understand that our relationship—if you can even call it that—was fleeting. We weren’t together nearly as long as you think. I had no idea she knew about this place. Just as I have no idea what she might be doing here. But we have one thing in our favor.”
I look at him.
“Snow.” His eyes glint, crinkling at the sides. “Maybe all of this snow is a good thing. With the spirit animals in hiding, it’s remained fairly undisturbed. Which should prove a big help in finding her tracks.”
It’s a good theory—or at least on the surface. But what he forgets is that the Lowerworld is home to many dimensions. Which means Phyre could’ve landed just about anywhere. Which also means we could wander for days and never catch sight of either her or her tracks.
Then again, she hasn’t been here all that long. So there’s still a good chance she hasn’t made it beyond this very first level.
Dace laces his fingers with mine, and we set off exploring. Our voices silenced, feet trudging forward, eyes constantly darting, surveying an all-white landscape. Having covered a good distance, before we finally reach a place where the snow’s been disturbed.
“Looks like she landed here.” Dace moves ahead, circling the area where a bank of snow has been flattened. Shifting his gaze to a trail of small footprints, he says, “And this should lead us to her.” He grasps my hand with his much cooler one. And I can’t help but wonder if his energy infusion is starting to wane, or if it’s a result of this frozen landscape we’re in.
“Dace, you feeling okay?” I study him carefully. All too aware that should his strength fail, there’s no one around here to help me restore him.
“I’m fine.” He pulls me toward the trail. But the way his jaw clenches, the way he averts his gaze, leads me to believe he’s anything but.
Still, with no other choice, I trek silently alongside him. Unwilling to put a voice to the long list of questions storming my brain.
Are these Phyre’s tracks?
And if so, what do we do once we find her?
Wouldn’t our time
be better spent searching for Dace’s soul?
What if we’ve fallen way off track—and what if it’s all my fault?
What if Phyre really is just sort of tragic and odd, but otherwise has nothing to do with any of this?
What if I’m endangering Dace by leading him on this crazy, nonsensical chase?
Dace squeezes my hand and pulls me to a stop. The alerted look on his face enough to quiet my thoughts.
“Do you hear that?” he whispers, nodding in the direction where a strange sort of chanting and wailing is coming from somewhere deep within the woods.
A chill slips over my skin. One that has less to do with the frigid climate we’re in, and more to do with the tone of the song.
It’s the sound of sadness and melancholy.
If complete and utter despair had a note, it would chime just like this.
Dace is the first to move toward it, but I’m quick to catch up. With lowered heads and stooped shoulders, we creep quietly forward. Edging up alongside a grove of tall pine trees flecked white with snow, I stare at the scene before me in complete disbelief. Only vaguely aware of Dace’s whispered voice in my ear, saying, “Well, that explains it.”
thirty-four
Dace
I gape at the spectacle before me. Telling myself it doesn’t truly exist. Just a trick of my mind. Not unlike the delusions that plagued me back in that hell dimension of the Middleworld.
Sinking into the comfort of a deeply rooted denial, when Daire drags a startled breath beside me that confirms it’s real.
The ice sculpture is elaborate.
Intricate.
Diamond shaped and massive in size, it’s been carefully carved by a talented hand. Its surface so shiny and slick, it serves as an easy distraction. Though a closer look reveals a much smaller diamond sculpture suspended inside, containing a radiant sphere that shimmers in a nimbus of light.
I recognize it the instant I see it.
And judging by Daire’s horrified gasp, she knows it too.
Though I can’t imagine how she managed it, somehow Phyre has captured my soul and encased it in ice.
It’s only when I lift my gaze higher that I see the razor-sharp stake she’s rigged to hang precariously above it.
It’s an ingenious contraption.
One that commands a sort of awed reverence.
One that requires a few hushed moments to take in its full magnitude—to understand how it works.
Its execution deceptively simple—the ice melts, the stake drops, and just like that my life force is eternally snuffed.
Taking Cade’s life force right along with me.
The first solid step toward fulfilling her father’s prophecy.
She always did have a flair for grand gestures—maximum dramatic impact. Still, I’m surprised she found the will to go through with it.
I start to rush toward it, eager to claim it. Until Daire grasps my sleeve and holds me in place. Her troubled gaze directing me to see what she sees.
Phyre, standing off to the side. Her eyes dark and dreamy, watching the stake inch its way toward my soul.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” She addresses us while keeping her gaze fixed firmly in place. “You know, it never used to snow down here, so I figured I should at least try to make the most of it and use it to my advantage. It was a real labor of love. Took me days to complete. You don’t have to hide.” She skews her gaze, looks at us sideways. “I know you’re there, Dace.” Her cheeks widen, her lips begin a slow curl at the sides. “I always know when you’re near.” She switches her focus to Daire and her features fall flat. “Just like I know that was you keeping me from Cade. I’m not stupid. I know you joined with that raven. I know who you are.”
I chance a cautious step forward, all the while keeping my eyes on the sculpture. Phyre’s unstable. Completely unhinged. Best not to make any sudden moves. Best not to startle her.
I’m just about to sneak another step, when she says, “I said you could stop hiding. I didn’t say you could come any closer. I want to see you, Dace. I always want to see you. But now, after everything that’s happened, I only want to see you from afar.”
I choose to obey. Remain rooted in place. Figuring it’s better to earn her trust than to force the issue and antagonize her into doing something entirely regrettable.
“I loved you, you know.” She swivels on her heels until she’s fully facing me. And that’s when I see her eyes are red-rimmed, her cheeks are misted with tears. “In fact, I still do. Just because you choose to love the Seeker doesn’t change my feelings for you.”
Her voice breaks a bit at the end, and thinking it might provide me an entrance, I stretch an arm toward her, and whisper her name. Urging her to take hold of my hand, to stop what she’s doing, so we can all talk this over.
But before I can get very far, she lifts an arm in protest, warning me back. And that’s when I see the full scope of this hideous tableau that she’s set. The mass of dried twigs clutched in one hand, the empty gas can (presumably the same one I watched her place in the trunk of her car) lying empty beside her, and Cade’s ubiquitous silver-and-turquoise lighter pinched between two of her fingers.
“It’s too late,” she says, her face strangely expressionless, her voice matter-of-fact. “Too late for all of us.” She shifts her focus to the twigs, and with a flick of her thumb sets the torch ablaze.
“Phyre!” I shout, and though I’m quick to lunge toward her, the move comes too late.
She’s already lowered the torch to the snow.
Already ignited the gasoline rainbow encircling the sculpture that plays host to my soul.
The fire erupting in a blinding flash of heat and flames that instantly gets the surface of the outermost sculpture melting at an alarming rate. Causing the stake rigged above it to descend toward my soul.
The sight of it leaving me speechless. Frozen in horror. Watching as Phyre inexplicably directs her breath on the blaze. Every inhale and exhale alternately tempering and stoking the flames.
“I know you don’t believe it,” she says, allowing the flames to settle. Her tone, light, conversational, picking up right where she left off, as though she hasn’t just significantly shortened the life span of my soul. “But the brief time we spent together were the absolute, hands-down, indisputable, best days of my life.” She purses her lips, breathes a quick hiss, sending the flames into a mad, sudden fury again. “Those moments were the only piece of beauty I could ever call mine.” She turns to me, curious to see how I’ll react.
“And yet, you’re determined to end me,” I say, less interested in her invented version of the past than the events unfolding before me.
The fire rages.
The ice sweats.
The dagger descends.
As the torch she wields in her hand emits a hazy cloud of noxious, hard-to-breathe fumes.
“You shouldn’t blame me, Dace. And you shouldn’t look at me that way—like I’m some kind of monster.” Her lips droop into a pout, as though I’ve deeply offended her. “None of this is my fault. It’s not like I asked for this life. I was chosen. Pure and simple. And now, I’m merely fulfilling my destiny. Doing what I was born to do.” She arcs the torch before her and thrusts it into the flames. And I watch as her lips pull back at the sides, face flushing with pleasure the second fire meets fire. “As it turns out, killing you was what I was born to do.” She sneaks a peek at me. Ensuring I’m suitably horrified, she lowers the torch to her side and allows the fire to settle. “If it wasn’t me standing here, then it would be one of my sisters, Ember or Ashe. It’s our family legacy, Dace. It’s not like I can change it, or alter it in some way. That’s not to say I liked it at first, ’cause believe me, I didn’t. But once my father explained the idea, once I made the decision to accept my fate, I began to see things differently. Everyone has a destiny, a purpose. And yet most people just shuffle through the course of their lives, totally clueless. You and me are the lucky ones. We figured it
out early on. Besides, I think it’s kind of romantic that our fates are entwined. I knew from the moment I met you that there was something bigger between us. Which is why you should take solace in the fact that your end will come from me. I mean, wouldn’t you rather exit at the hand of someone who loves you?”
“I prefer not to exit at all.” I slew my gaze toward Daire and shoot her a wary look, warning her to stay put.
Phyre’s clearly gone crazy. And it’s best for Daire to keep a low profile and not interfere. Anything Daire says or does will only provoke her. Besides, I’m the one who tarnished my soul, leaving it vulnerable. I should be the one to negotiate its return.
“You disappoint me, Dace.” Phyre heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Death doesn’t just happen to other, less fortunate people. It happens to all of us. Just like it will happen to you. We’re all going to exit someday. Though I guess I should’ve figured you’d say that. It’s astounding the delusions people willingly cling to.” She returns her attention to the fiery blaze. Alternately stoking it and calming it with deep, purposeful breaths—enjoying the tease. “You have no idea what a favor this is. At least this death will be quick and painless. At least you’ll be spared the horrors of the Last Days, which, just so you know, truly are upon us. I’m afraid Enchantment won’t fare so well. It’s a town filled with blasphemous heathens and sinners. So, with that in mind, I think it’s best if you consider this as my final gift to you. Two years ago I gave you my virginity, and now I give you an easy exit from a pain-filled world.”
She opens her mouth, gathers her breath, and I can’t let her do it again. The large sculpture has almost completely given way. And it will only take a few more well-directed breaths to see that the smaller one is history as well, leaving my soul completely exposed. Leaving the dagger to finish its hideous, downward course.
“I don’t see it like you do,” I say, my mouth so dry, I have to force the words past. “I don’t see the world as pain-filled. I see wonder everywhere I look. I see wonder in you.” I study her closely, pray the words penetrate. But one look at her face tells me it’s a total fail.
