Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(45)
I stare at her without blinking, without breathing. Startled by her sudden change of heart—the enormity of her words.
She slides the knife toward me. Looks me straight in the eye. “When you’re ready to kill Cade, you will use this athame. You will also use it to rid the Lowerworld of undead Richters, by either removing their heads or cutting them clean at the waist.”
I balk at her instructions. Unable to imagine committing such an act.
“I know the thought is unpleasant,” she says. “I’m afraid the act will be too. But this time, unlike the last time, you will not have the aid of the Bone Keeper with you. Thus, it’s the only way to release the souls that empower them. The only way to return them to the place where they belong.”
“And Cade—is this the only way to kill him as well?” I remove the knife from its case. Studying it with newly informed eyes, testing the weight of it in my hand, sliding the wide smooth part across the width of my palm. Assuring myself I can do this—it’s what I was born to do. I just have to find them, that’s all. When the time comes, there will be no hesitation. I’ll slay them all.
It’s a promise I make to myself, to Paloma, to the people of Enchantment who don’t deserve the kind of suffering they’ve endured.
I turn to Paloma with a determined gaze, wanting her to know I can handle the task. That I won’t disappoint her. I will see this thing through. It’s only when she returns my gaze with a deeply regretful look that I realize she’s left my question unanswered.
“Will this kill Cade?” I repeat, voice pitching too high.
She presses her hands to her chest and steeples her fingers. “This is all new to me, nieta. And I’m sorry to ask this of you. All I know for sure is that the knife is now fortified with Valentina’s essence. I’ve no doubt she will prove to be a formidable ally for you. From this moment on, you will keep the athame with you at all times. You will act when called upon. You will do whatever necessary to defeat Cade and his army of undead ancestors, no matter the stakes.” Her gaze softening when she adds, “Now let’s go see if we can’t make it snow.”
twenty-five
Dace
“Does anyone mind explaining just what the heck is going on around here?” Lita stares down the length of the lunch table, pausing on each of us. “First of all, where’s Daire? Does she even go here anymore? And second, how strange is it that she disappears only to have Phyre show up? And not that I’m keeping track, so don’t anybody get the wrong idea since I’m totally over him, but Cade Richter is still missing as well. And since nobody seems the least bit concerned by this series of strange events, I have to ask: Was there a memo I missed? Am I the only one who gives a flip about finals this week? And, for the record, I’m mostly looking at you, Whitefeather, since you’re the one with the closest ties to all three of them.”
The guys at the end of the table turn away, relieved to be off the hook. While I shrug, focus hard on my vending machine burrito, and say, “Daire’s not feeling well. And Cade and I don’t really talk, as you know.”
Lita sits with the information. Head bobbing back and forth as though the scale of justice is embedded in there. “And the whole deal with Phyre? What’s up with that?”
“Don’t know,” I mumble, knowing all too well where she’s heading with that but unwilling to take that particular trip. Phyre’s a memory. A ghost. She has no place in the life I live now.
“Oh, no.” Lita straightens, staring me down with her well-practiced, interrogation glare. The one that alerts Jacy and Crickett to sit up straighter too, unwilling to miss whatever comes next. “That does not work with me. Where does Phyre fit in—and how come you acted so weird around her?”
They stare. All of them. Even Xotichl’s eyes dart suspiciously toward me. Leaving me with no choice but to flash my palms in surrender and say, “Phyre fits in wherever she chooses. She doesn’t consult with me. She’s been off my radar for years.”
“Two years.” Lita smirks, the words illustrated by the two fingers she shoves in my face. “It’s been only two years since she left. And, my guess is, from the way she looked at you, she wants to pick up right where you guys left off. And from the way you acted all squirmy and weird around her, you don’t know what you want. Or, even worse, you do know what you want, only now you have a little problem called Daire standing in the way. Which leaves you all … conundrumed and kerfuffled.”
“Are those even words?” Xotichl asks, causing Jacy and Crickett to laugh into their hands, as Lita rolls her eyes and dismisses them all with a shake of her head.
“The problem with you, Whitefeather”—Lita pauses, demanding my full attention—“do you want to know what your problem is?”
I stare at my lunch. Wondering how I even got here. Why I ever agreed to befriend her, when it’s clear she’s barely changed since reclaiming her soul. But, instead, I just say, “Yeah, why not? Have at it.”
She nods, crosses her legs and arms, taking on a defensive posture as though I’d even consider engaging in verbal combat with her. “The problem with you is you’re not used to people thinking you’re hot.”
Xotichl frowns.
Jacy and Crickett gasp, barely able to contain themselves.