Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(22)

I have to be patient.

Have to believe in my heart that it won’t be much longer until Dace and I are together.

I have to believe it, envision it, and think from the end.

I wave a hand before me, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my fingers shake, the way my voice trembles when I say, “We’re good, okay? Truly. I get why you have to do it. Really, I do.” I choke back the sob crowding my throat, averting my gaze so I won’t have to see his grief-stricken face.

He’s about to speak again, when Auden and Xotichl arrive. Auden’s eyes wide and uncertain, Xotichl’s head tilted, when they find me standing with Dace.

I flash them the wait-a-minute signal, about to say good-bye to Dace when he grabs hold of me. Fingers circling my wrist, he peers at my finger and says, “You’re healed.”

“Looks like Paloma worked another miracle.” I allow a quick grin, then jerk free of his grip. The move costing much more than it appears on the surface. Bearing sole responsibility for the avalanche of ache that rages inside. “And you?”

I peer at the bit of gauze peeking free of his sleeve, marking the spot where Coyote made a feast of his flesh. Watching as he tugs hard on the fabric, dragging it down past the wound. “No miracle required. Not to worry, I’m good.”

I squint, not quite believing it but choosing not to pursue it. I allow myself to hold his gaze for much longer than I should. Bargaining for just a few more seconds of being engulfed in the sacredness of his space—telling myself I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for any damage that ensues.

It takes every last bit of my strength to drag myself from him, but I do. Heading for Auden and Xotichl without once looking back.

“Did you get any sleep?” Xotichl asks, when I slide onto the seat just behind them, trying to act nonchalant, though I’m pretty sure they’re not fooled.

“Not really,” I say. “But strangely, I’m not at all tired.” Determined but not tired.

“Me neither,” Xotichl says as Auden pulls onto the road and cautiously swerves around Dace.

“Well, I am,” Auden quips. “There’s not enough energy drinks in the world.”

His words causing Xotichl to laugh in that delightful way that she has. Pressing her shoulder to his, she snuggles against him and says, “Epitaph had a gig in Albuquerque last night. The crowd loved them so much they played seven encores!”

“Two.” Auden laughs. Yanking affectionately on Xotichl’s ponytail when he adds, “But who’s counting?”

“All I know is that he drove all the way back to Enchantment instead of staying over with the rest of the band, just so he could drive us to school. Isn’t that sweet?” She cocks her head toward me, as I bite back the overwhelming surge of envy when I see the way they get to love each other so openly and easily. Forcing myself to agree that it is indeed sweet of him.

“Yeah, I’m sweet.” Auden grins. “And the second I drop you off, I’m gonna go crash my sweet self until it’s time to pick you both up again.”

“I don’t need a ride home.” I stare out the window, taking in this dump of a town with its rusted cars, sagging clotheslines, and crumbling adobe homes.

For a brief time I’d fooled myself into thinking it was improving—fooled myself that I was the reason. But now, seeing it with untainted vision, there’s no denying this place is a complete and total dead end. Bearing no hint of Paloma’s claim that it was once a good match for its name. I can only hope that once I’ve properly dealt with Cade Richter, this place will be truly enchanting again.

“How you getting home?” Xotichl’s voice is thick with suspicion.

“I’ll find a ride.” I unbuckle my seat belt and grab hold of my bag. “In fact, you can drop me right here.”

“You skipping school?” Auden asks.

“Yep,” I mumble, already distracted by what I now need to do.

“Again?” Xotichl swivels in her seat until she’s halfway facing me.

Her voice colliding with Auden’s, who blurts, “You seriously want me to stop right here?” He squints at me from the rearview mirror. Gaze narrowing further when he adds, “In the middle of the road?”

I nod, already opening the door and freeing a leg.

“What’re you up to, Daire?” Xotichl’s face darkens in a way I rarely see.

Since there’s no use lying to her, I don’t even try. I glance between the two of them and say, “Something that should have been done a long time ago.”

Then I swing the door shut and head for Gifford’s Gift Shop * Notary * & Mailstop. Planning to fill up on some of that freshly brewed coffee they advertise in the window, while I wait for the Rabbit Hole to open for business.





desecration





eleven


Dace

Daire walks away from my truck.

Away from me.

Determined. In a hurry. Her shiny brown hair sailing behind her in a way that seems almost mocking. As if to say: You want me? You want to fold me in the palm of your hand, and weave your fingers around my soft, silken strands? Feel free—your demonic brother would love nothing more!

I curse under my breath, kick stupidly at the dirt, and climb inside my truck. An ugly mess of scraped-together bits that, thanks to countless hours bent under the hood, and layers of grease on my hands, houses an engine that purrs.