Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(43)

She adopts an overtly patient expression and the tone to match. Acting as though she’s been left to deal with a difficult child who needs everything carefully explained. “I saw her in town yesterday. She’s definitely back. She’s even coming to Milagro. Said she’ll start up after Winter Break…”

She goes on from there, but I’ve already stopped listening. I’ve heard all I need to.

Phyre.

Here.

At Milagro.

I try to shake free of the thought, but it clings at the edges. Encouraging the blur of long-forgotten pictures that form in my head. The slideshow unfolding to the soundtrack of my own voice, warning: You can never go back. And why would you want to?

Then, just after I think it, I realize I wouldn’t.

Go back.

Not ever.

“Wow,” Xotichl says. Always amazing me with her ability to pack so much meaning into one single, seemingly innocuous word. Her head tilts toward me, no doubt reading my energy. Trying to assess how I’m taking the news. What it means to me—what it means for Daire.

I respond to her head tilt with a shrug. Hoping she’ll sense it and rest assured that the news means nothing. I may find it interesting. Unexpected. But no more.

“Speaking of…” Jacy gestures toward the place where Phyre climbs out of a dusty white car. Her eyes lighting upon us, her face breaking into a smile.

She’s changed. Looks really different from the way I remember. Her hair is still wild, but the red streaks are new. And she’s definitely taller. Prettier too. Like the baby fat that once padded her cheeks migrated to other, more womanly places, allowing her face to rearrange itself into a series of sharp pleasing angles and curves.

I swipe a hand over my chin. Try to stop looking, but it’s no use. It’s like watching a ghost swoop down from the past, and all I can do is stand there and stare. Reminding myself it meant nothing, we were just kids, didn’t really know what we were doing.

Okay, maybe not exactly kids.

Kids don’t do what we did.

Still, a lot of time has passed. And during that time, a lot of things have changed. Actually, everything’s changed. Or at least it has for me. And, from the looks of her, she’s met with change too.

She says hello, allowing her gaze to move among us, before landing on me, where it stays long enough to take a full inventory. Holding the look just a few seconds too long—long enough for everyone to notice—before she clears her throat and says, “So … does this mean you guys are all friends now? How did that happen?”

“Daire made it happen.” Xotichl tilts her chin and scrunches her nose as she accesses Phyre’s energy. And from the way she fails to relent, I’m guessing she doesn’t approve of what she sees. “Daire is Dace’s girlfriend.” The words so unmistakably pointed, Phyre rubs her lips together and shifts her gaze to her feet.

“Then I’m sure she’s amazing,” Phyre says, her eyes glittering just a little too brightly. “So, can anyone show me where the office is? I need to register.”

She turns her focus on me, hoping I’ll volunteer, but I pretend not to hear. I just watch as Lita nudges Jacy hard in the side, and a second later she and Crickett are leading her away.

Barely making it out of earshot when Xotichl frowns, and Lita says, “I don’t like this.” She stares after them, lips twitching from side to side. “I don’t like what it could possibly mean for me.” Her words purposely leading, practically begging Xotichl and me to ask her to explain. But we know we don’t need to. Lita has every intention to continue. She’s merely filtering the thoughts in her head. “I mean, look how she just waltzes right up and blends in. She was always flitting from clique to clique, blending with everyone so flippin’ easily. It took me years to even consider acknowledging you guys.” She stops, realizes what she just said. Then shrugging, she adds, “No offense. But still…”

She drones on, weighing the pros and cons of Phyre’s sudden reappearance—how it might impact her own popularity. Either completely unaware that no one’s really listening—or well beyond caring that Xotichl’s lost in her own train of thoughts, as I fight like hell not to turn around and look at Daire.

Part of me aching to see her—part of me knowing it’s the last thing we need.

Unfortunately, the first part wins. Driven by the weight of Daire’s gaze upon me, begging me to turn. To look. And, without further hesitation, I do.

And I keep on looking long after Chay drives her away, blotting her out of my view.





twenty-four


Daire

“Once kindled, Fire is fast acting and quick to consume all in its path. It burns, scorches, singes, and transforms by altering the structure of all that it touches. In moderation, it provides comfort, warmth, and illumination. In excess, it blazes an unholy path of destruction.”

Paloma bends toward the row of hand-dipped candles she’s placed on the battered wooden table in her office. Their wicks sizzling and sparking when met with the flaming end of the long wooden match she wields in her hand.

“Fire can also be used for scrying.” She looks at me, a small smile lighting her eyes. “Most any object can be used in this way, but fire adds a certain intensity, a certain animated quality you don’t often get from a rock or a crystal. So, tell me, nieta, when you look into the flame, what do you see?”