Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(77)

I shake my head, allow my gaze to settle on Dace for a moment. Long enough to glean a bit of his warmth, before I look away and say, “Things are complicated with Dace…”

“They’re taking a little break,” Xotichl cuts in, supplying a truth that’s too painful for me to admit.

“What? Exactly when did this happen? Are you saying we’re both single now? Does that mean I’m competing against you?” Lita squints, trying to decide how she feels about that.

“Competing for what?” Xotichl says. “You just said girls have to stop competing for boys. You also said there’s not a single interesting boy in this town.”

“True.” Lita turns to face Xotichl. “And I meant every word of it. What can I say? Sometimes there’s a bit of a delay in putting my words into practice. Besides, the whole thing’s moot. You snagged the only good guy to be had in these parts. Where is Auden, by the way?”

Xotichl tilts her head to the side. “He just arrived.”

Lita and I look toward the door, where, sure enough, Auden stands, scoping the room, searching for Xotichl.

“How do you do that? How does she do that?” Lita glances between us, but I just shrug in response. I’m too busy forcing myself not to obsess over Dace.

“I’m here to collect,” Auden says, working his way toward Xotichl. “Unless something drastic happens in the next few hours, the most we can hope for is a wet Christmas, not a white Christmas.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Xotichl grins. “Don’t you know it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings and the white stuff drifts from the sky?”

I look at them. Hardly able to believe I’d been so busy trying to find answers in the codex, trying to rearrange the prophecy in my head and come up with some kind of plan, that I forgot about the snow.

Forgot about the one thing that’s still—maybe—within my realm of control.

“I’ll be back!” I turn away from my friends.

“Where you going?” Lita calls, as Xotichl’s face creases with worry.

“I’m going to give Xotichl her white Christmas.” I speed toward the exit, leaving Lita, Xotichl, and Auden staring after me.





forty-one


Dace

I barely make it halfway down the hall before Phyre finds me. Like she’s brandishing some sort of invisible radar that’s programmed to track only me.

She steps free of the shadows, stands right before me, and says, “Hey, Dace.” Her voice soft, her smile pretty.

But it’s the wrong pretty.

Not the pretty I seek.

I nod in acknowledgment. Start to move away. Stopped by her fingers circling my wrist as she pulls me back to her.

“Can we talk?”

I slide my eyes closed. Search for a kind way to tell her to quit thinking of me. Quit stalking me. To leave the past where it belongs—dead and buried.

Opening my eyes again to find myself staring at Daire on the other side of the room, unwilling to break the gaze now that I’ve found her.

“You’re always in such a hurry. You never have any time for me.” Phyre tugs on my arm. Using the tip of her fingernail to trace light circles over my skin in a desperate bid to claim my attention.

I drag my gaze from Daire and focus on Phyre. “There’s nothing to talk about.” I twist free of her grip.

“You say that—but how can you be sure?” She cocks her head to the side, allowing a spray of curls to slide across her cheek. It’s a well-rehearsed, overplayed move. “For starters, aren’t you curious as to why I came back?”

I just shoot her a patient look, hoping it’ll help speed things along.

“It’s no accident, you know.”

“If memory serves—nothing you do is an accident,” I say, remembering all the random times she seemed to just happen to be in the same place as me. How it took a while to realize there was nothing random about it. Though it’s not like I cared. I was just happy to be noticed by a female who wasn’t my mom. The fact that Phyre was so pretty was an added boon.

“You were always so quiet, so introspective. It wasn’t easy to get your attention.”

“You managed though, didn’t you?” My gaze meets hers, and when I see her flinch, I’m surprised to find I enjoy it, which is not at all like me. Must be that piece of Cade asserting its influence. Reminding me I’m no longer the same guy I used to be.

“True,” she admits, shoulders lifting. “What can I say? When I set my sights on something or someone, I usually—no, scratch that—I always get what I want.”

Her gaze is open. Direct. A challenge I’m meant to either deflect or accept. But, instead, I meet it with a face so impassive it gives nothing away.

“After all, I got you, didn’t I?”

My eyes graze over her, allowing myself to indulge in a few clips from the memory reel.

Sneaking away from our parents’ prying eyes in pursuit of a few heady moments under a blanket of stars … a first kiss—her lips determined and sure, mine overeager and inexperienced … a first feel—my awkwardness trumped by her surprising proficiency … another first—the one she insisted upon—though that’s not to say I wasn’t willing … and right after that, they were gone …