Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(38)

Thick rivulets of sweat begin to drip down my torso, forming small pools in the dirt just below. The incessant rhythm of Cree’s chanting and rattling causing my head to thrum—my body to instinctively sway to its beat. The air all around me adopting a light, hazy feel—until the next thing I know, I’m no longer attached to my body.

I’m released of gravity’s hold.

My physical form giving way to the astral version of me, I’m rendered weightless, freed of all restraints. Slipping easily through the domed tarp above me, I float through the ether. Surprised to find Leftfoot soaring alongside me, his ethereal form surrounded by a light film of gold, while my own is outlined with shimmering bands of blue.

Watch closely. His words swirl within me. You will see what you are meant to see, so it’s important to take careful note. You may not always like what you’re shown, but you don’t choose the journey—the journey chooses you.

With a curt nod of his head, we drift downward. Ultimately landing in a long all-white hallway marked by a series of doors with no handles or knobs, no way to open them on our own.

I look to Leftfoot, unsure what to do, when his eyes meet mine and the word patience streams into my head.

A door to my right swings open, and I’m quick to look in. Surprised to see the moment I made a quick and quiet entrance into the world. Only to have the hush soon broken by Cade’s noisy arrival just a few moments later.

To the casual observer, there’s no discernible difference between us. Yet a closer look reveals the veil of darkness shrouding my twin.

Chepi knows it the instant she sees him. Her unease made visible by the way she flinches when he’s placed in her arms.

Leandro sees it too. Evidenced by the spark in his eyes when he claims Cade for his own.

The image fades, dwindling and curling at the edges as though lit by a flame. Barely having a chance to digest what I’ve seen, when another door opens and Leftfoot guides me to an overstuffed chair set before a small screen. Where we watch a scratchy black-and-white reel of my most awkward childhood scenes.

I slink low in my seat, crossing and uncrossing my glowing blue legs. About to get up, try my luck in another room, when Leftfoot puts his hand on my arm and gestures toward the screen. And that’s when I see it. That’s when I see what I’d failed to grasp until now. Throughout my entire childhood—my entire life—every bleak moment, every humiliation, every episode of unhappiness was eased by Leftfoot’s guidance.

He was there for me then, just as he’s here for me now.

All along, he’s known what I am and what it is that I’m headed for. And because of it, he’s done his best to instill subtle lessons of magick and destiny, even when it opposed Chepi’s wishes.

When the screen goes dark, I’m humbled by gratitude, overcome by the need to thank him. But he just waves it away and ushers me back to the hall, where we watch as a series of doors open and close.

Some allowing no more than a glimpse—while others offer much bigger reveals.

And despite having already lived it, seeing my life laid out before me so neatly, proves nothing was an accident.

Nothing was ever left to mere chance.

Each step flowed easily into the next—all of them pieces of a much greater plan.

The floor beneath our feet begins to move, propelling us toward the end of the hall, where we crash through the glass wall and swirl through a constellation of shiny crystalline pieces as we lift into the sky.

We sail over mountain peaks.

Glide across darkly glistening rivers.

Flying so much higher than I did as the red-tailed hawk I merged with just a few hours earlier. The sensation so glorious, so liberating, I can’t bear to land.

Somewhere in the distance, Cree’s rattle quickens—tiny beads bouncing furiously against rawhide. Calling us home. But I’m not ready yet.

We dip low.

And then lower still.

Veering toward a landscape that’s drastically changed. A broken desert chaparral. A place of untold corruption and defeat. Its sagging homes and damaged people instantly identifying it as Enchantment.

A sad sack of a town, carelessly desecrated at the hands of the Richters—the bloodline I share.

We glide past the Rabbit Hole, seeing it cloaked in a cloud of murky brown haze I never noticed until now.

We sail past Paloma’s adobe with the vibrant blue gate, the entire width of her property surrounded by a glorious wreath of light.

The town consisting of pockets both light and dark.

But mostly dark.

Primarily dark.

And then Cade.

We swoop into the alleyway that lies behind the Rabbit Hole. Going unnoticed as he pushes a girl hard against the wall and tugs at the neck of her shirt.

A girl with long dark hair that falls into her face, obscuring it in a way I can’t see.

She turns her head—tries in vain to scream. Barely able to eke out more than a yelp, before Cade silences her with a hand slapped over her face.

His eyes blaze red. His mouth fills with snakes. Transformed into the beast that he is, he emits a spine-chilling growl and gouges her chest with his fangs.

Soul stealing.

Just like the dream.

I race toward him. Ram my energy hard into his. Hoping to throw him off balance long enough to allow the girl to escape.

But in the end, it’s like tossing myself into foam—the landing is soft, malleable, bears no real effect.