Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(21)
“It’s illuminated!” Xotichl turns to Paloma for confirmation.
“It is indeed.” Paloma nods. “Valentina was very skilled as both a soothsayer and an illustrator.” Referring to one of the very first Seekers in the Santos family tree, who appeared to me during my vision quest, along with Django; Alejandro, the grandfather I never met; and a whole host of Santos ancestors along with their spirit animals.
I peer at the elaborately scrawled handwritten text that at first glance appears to be a convoluted mess of symbols and numbers and words so archaic, so cryptic, they’re impossible to decipher.
“It’s unreadable.” My face droops as I turn to Paloma.
“It appears that way.” She looks at me, a faint glimmer in her eye.
Xotichl’s hands hover over the pages, palms down, her lips screwed to the side. She contemplates for a moment, then says, “It has very pure energy. It speaks only the truth.” She lowers her hands to her lap and sits back in her chair. “Though it came at great cost. A sacrifice was involved.”
Paloma reaches toward Xotichl, eyes shining with pride. “You’re making such progress!” She ruffles her hair, causing Xotichl to catch Paloma’s hand with her own.
“Yes, but there’s still so much more to learn.” Xotichl grins.
I watch the two of them together—the teacher and the student. And yet they’re so much more than that. They’re family. My family. The realization filling me with a warmth I didn’t expect. While Dace may be determined to avoid me in order to protect me, it’s good to know I don’t have to face this alone.
“Valentina was the sacrifice,” Paloma says. “She suffered great trials to accumulate this knowledge, but she did so willingly. As one of the first to face the Richters, she knew the fight would continue—that her child would have little choice but to pick up where she left off. She was determined to leave some sort of guide. This book is the result.”
“Did they speak in a special language known only to them?” I peer at the lettering, the strange symbols, still unable to make any sense of it.
“Valentina took great precautions to ensure the text would not fall into the wrong hands. All too aware that a breach of that kind would’ve proved disastrous for us, she invented an elaborate code that’s not easily deciphered. Since the start of its existence, the book, along with the secret to reading it, has been passed down from Seeker to child. I presented this book to Django on his sixteenth birthday, as is the custom. Though, of course, as you already know, he wanted no part of the Seeker tradition. But now that you’ve accepted your calling, nieta, it’s time I pass it to you.”
Xotichl dips her head and sighs. “Looks like you’ve got some heavy reading ahead of you over Winter Break.” She laughs, determined to make light of a heavy situation.
“Oh, no.” I grasp the book by the edges and slide it toward me. “I’ve no intention of waiting. I’m starting now. That is, if Paloma’s willing to show me how to read this thing.”
I glance at Paloma, watching as she disappears into the kitchen, only to return a few moments later with a tray of homemade sugar-free cookies and freshly brewed tea. Placing a mug before each of us as we turn to the book—remaining like that late into the night.
*
The next morning I’m waiting outside Paloma’s blue gate well before Dace is set to arrive. My grief from the night before lessened by what I now know.
It’s like Paloma said, prophecies are tricky. They can be interpreted in a number of ways. And now that I’ve had a chance to read it in the book for myself, my mission is clear.
One must die. There’s no getting around it.
But it won’t be me.
And it won’t be Dace either. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him alive. Even if that means thwarting a prediction made long ago.
Despite Paloma’s telling me that killing is frowned upon, what she doesn’t understand is that a new day has dawned. Now that I know what I know—seen what I’ve seen—it’s clear that Cade Richter must be eliminated.
He may be human, but he’s no ordinary human. And as soon as I’ve dealt with him, it’s just a matter of time before I locate those undead Richters, since they’re only as good as the guidance he gives them. Once they’re gone, the Lowerworld will be free to heal and blossom again, the balance will be restored, and Dace and I will have nothing or no one standing in our way. We’ll be free to love each other for as long as we want.
All I have to do is rid the world of his brother.
The thought providing a much-needed push for what I have to do next.
So when Dace parks his truck before me and hops free of his side to open my door, I remain rooted in place. My gaze fixed on his, I say, “Thanks for stopping by, but I’m getting a ride from Auden and Xotichl today.”
He studies me with eyes that are even more fatigued and red-rimmed than they were when I left him. Speaking my name with a voice so hoarse, it takes all of my will not to barrel into his arms and beg him to forget what I said. Forget what he said. To forget everything and just be with me again.
He reaches for me, fingers straining toward mine, but I quickly withdraw from his grasp. I can’t afford the contact. Can’t afford to be swayed by the lure of his touch. If I’m going to kill his twin, I can’t do anything that will enable Cade to become a more formidable opponent than he already is.