Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(35)
I stare hard at Leftfoot, shocked by his words.
“That story is a disservice to Jolon. Though I’ve never tried to defend him because the truth is much worse.”
He turns toward the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, grimacing when he takes in the lack of snow at the cap, or maybe he’s grimacing at what he’s about to say next. It’s hard to tell with Leftfoot.
“The truth is, Jolon’s defenses were much too strong for Leandro to penetrate, and Leandro was at least smart enough to know that. When Chepi arrived home that day, battered and bruised, Jolon decided to use the forbidden art we merely toyed with as kids to enter Leandro’s experience. Remaining there long enough to view the contents of his wretched, debauched life—including the horrible acts he performed on Chepi. He thought he could handle it, and, at the time, Jolon was so strong I would’ve bet on it too. But the events Jolon witnessed were so horrific they weakened him in a way he never imagined. He died shortly after making the soul jump. So while the essence of the oft-repeated story is the same—that Jolon died from a broken heart over the things he witnessed—the truth is that Leandro didn’t force Jolon to witness it. He didn’t alter Jolon’s perception like they claim. Jolon chose to make the jump. He chose to witness the dregs of Leandro’s dark soul. And what he saw cost him his life.”
I stand before him, suitably sobered by the tale.
“All magick comes with a price. You must never forget that.”
I work my jaw, curl my fingers to fists, and nod like I mean it. I do mean it.
“Okay,” Leftfoot says, finally convinced. “Here’s how you do it…”
twenty
Daire
The second we spot Jennika parked outside Paloma’s adobe, I’m not sure who groans louder, Paloma or me.
“Great. So much for fire starting.” I stare incredulously as my mom leans against some generic rental car, furiously punching numbers into her cell. Probably calling me and getting my voice mail, since my phone has been off for the better part of the day.
Her chin lifts as she hears our approach—her expression changing from angry to relieved, before settling on completely annoyed. “Hello, Daire,” she says, coming around to my side. Her arms spread wide for a hug, despite a demeanor that’s hardly what I’d call welcoming. “Where the hell have you been?” She releases me from her grip. “I’ve been calling for hours. Even dropped by your school only to be told that you didn’t bother to show. I was worried sick!” She grabs hold of my braid, then frowns when her fingers come away wet. Shifting her anger to Paloma, she says, “Well?”
“Please, come inside.” Paloma ducks around her and leads us to the door. “I’ll make us some tea, something to eat, and we can all sit and talk. It’s nice to see you.” She smiles at Jennika, but Jennika merely grunts in response.
I sneak a peek at Paloma, my gaze filled with questions. How did this happen? How did my mom show up in Enchantment without my knowing—without any advance warning? But Paloma seems as clueless as I am.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask, claiming a seat at the kitchen table and motioning for Jennika to do the same, which she reluctantly does.
“I wanted to surprise you. And judging by the horrified look on your face when you saw me, I did.”
I fumble for a grin. Try to act as though I’m not nearly as horrified as she thinks. A little surprised, but mostly just happy to see her.
Which I am.
Or at least I could’ve been with a little advance notice, some time to prepare. But then, Jennika’s never been one to call ahead. She’s all about the ambush.
“What’s going on, Daire?” Her green eyes, nearly exact replicas of mine, study me in that all-knowing, all-seeing, motherly way that always leaves me squirming. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“Why aren’t you at work?” I retort, accepting the mug of tea Paloma places before me. If nothing else, it’ll give me something to look at.
“We shut down for the holiday. So I thought I’d pay you a visit.”
“You’re staying here?” I ask, instantly regretting the way my face drops as my voice rings with panic.
Smooth, Daire. Way to keep her from guessing you’re involved in the sort of activities she’d never approve of.
“I got a room in town.” She taps her thumb against the cup, the silver ring I gave her for Mother’s Day making a dull, clanging sound.
“There are rooms in town?” I squint, trying to imagine who would possibly stay in one. Who would choose to visit Enchantment and, once here, actually stay the night?
“Trust me, it’s not much.”
She picks at her hair, the bleached-blond strands appearing far more golden than the extreme platinum I remember. And her skin, normally as pale as mine, is now ever so slightly tanned. Must be the LA effect—the result of residing full time in the Golden State where the sun always shines.
Or at least that’s what I think until I notice the faint row of lines crossing her forehead and realize she’s not nearly as settled as I thought. She may have a permanent address and a permanent place of employment for the first time in a long time, but it’s been a tough year, with too many changes to count. And not all of those changes were good.