Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(18)
I follow him outside to his old beater truck, climbing in beside him as he cranks up the heat to ward off the chill. But the hot air blowing from the vent bears no effect. My body’s as numb as my heart, and a rise in temperature is not going to change that.
He navigates the dirt roads in silence, until he stops before Paloma’s blue gate and turns to me to say, “This doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Nothing could ever do that.”
I swallow hard. Turn my back on the words. Reaching for the door handle with burning eyes and a throat gone too tight to reply.
“If you want, I’ll drive you to school tomorrow, but you might want to try to arrange something else after that. No need to make this any harder than it is.”
I push the door open and slip free of his truck. Aware of the weight of his gaze, following me as I carefully pick my way past the blue gate. Then the moment it slams shut behind me, I race through Paloma’s front door, where I collapse into her arms in a big sobbing heap.
nine
“Nieta?” Paloma clasps me tightly to her chest and coos into my hair. “Nieta, what has happened?”
I pull away, furiously erasing the tears with the backs of my hands. Crying is something I rarely allow, and crying in front of others is something I can barely tolerate from myself. I try to speak, but the words sputter and stall in my throat, as if I’m reluctant to give them any more weight, any more power to hurt me than they already have.
Paloma studies my face. Brushing a soft, papery hand across my brow, her eyes shining with compassion, she sighs softly and says, “And so it begins.”
I squint, having no idea what that means. Paloma’s always had an uncanny way of reading my emotions, but this time feels different. It feels like a setup. Like she was camped by the door, waiting for me to burst in.
“I’m so sorry, nieta. I feared this would happen.” Her voice rings sincere, but the words leave me disturbed.
She hands me a tissue I use to dab at my face, until the tissue grows so soggy and useless I crumple it in my fist. “Feared what would happen?” I try to get a read on her, but as usual, her expression is inscrutable. “I haven’t told you anything yet.”
She stares into my eyes, and not missing a beat, she replies, “The life of a Seeker is difficult.” Her hand reaches for me, but seeing the way I recoil at her touch, she quickly drops it to her side. “And romance always comes with a price.”
“So you knew?” I cross my arms in defiance, thinking it would’ve been nice if she’d thought to share that with me. But then again, maybe she did and I just didn’t listen.
She’s definitely dropped a few hints along the way. Including the night just after her soul was returned, when she told me that Dace and I were fated. I was completely exalted by the news, while her own reaction was anything but.
I return to her, a cold chill pocking my skin when she says, “No, nieta, I didn’t know for sure. I merely suspected what the pendulum, along with your appearance just now, have confirmed.”
“But I haven’t confirmed anything. I haven’t said a single word about what happened today. So how could you know? Are you spying on me too?”
“Too?” She lifts a brow.
But instead of explaining, I clamp my lips shut, refusing to say anything more. The vow lasting only a handful of seconds, before I look at her and plead, “Paloma, please, I need to know what you know—and I need to know it now.”
She nods sagely, about to speak when Xotichl pokes her head out from the archway that marks the entrance to Paloma’s office, saying, “Maybe I should leave?” Her gaze seems to dart between Paloma and me as though she can see us.
Great. Now I’m crying in front of my friends. Could this possibly get any worse?
Knowing Xotichl needs Paloma’s help just as much as Paloma needs the money her clients bring in, I shake my head and turn toward my room, saying, “No. You should definitely stay.” Though I don’t even make it to the hall before Paloma’s noticed my finger and pulled me back to her.
“Nieta, how did you get this?” She inspects the wound that just a few hours ago was barely noticeable, but now, after a trip to a grossly corrupted Lowerworld is a hot flaming mess. Then she takes me by the elbow and steers me up the ramp that leads to her office, where she deposits me onto a chair at the square wooden table next to Xotichl, before busying herself at the counter with her potions and herbs.
I peer at Xotichl’s black long-sleeved T-shirt, the word EPITAPH, the name of Auden’s band, scrawled in a blaze of silver across the front, and her dark skinny jeans that are tucked into dark suede boots. With her hair gathered into a loose ponytail that allows her finely honed features to take center stage, I’m struck once again by her quiet brand of prettiness. Her soft blue/gray eyes staring straight ahead, she reaches for my shoulder, and says, “I felt your distress the moment you arrived. I’m so sorry for whatever’s happened. If you want my help, just say the word.”
I smile faintly, so unused to having friends, people to confide in, people willing to help, I’m unsure how to respond. So other than a quick, mumbled thanks, I sit silently beside her. Feet crossed at the ankles and tucked under my chair, as Paloma grinds a handful of carefully selected herbs with her mortar and pestle. Humming one of her healing songs under her breath, she forms the mixture into a thick green poultice she applies to my finger, then wraps a strip of gauze over the concoction, telling me to hold it in place until she says when.