Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(79)

My knees go feeble and weak, buckling beneath me.

My hand instinctively flies to my chest, as though to keep my heart caged, keep it from leaping free of my flesh.

While my eyes remain riveted on the very thing I’d hoped to never see.

Dace—holding the lock—wielding the key.

Dace giving up on us—giving up on me.

He turns, sensing my presence as his eyes light on mine. One look at my grief-stricken face enough to prompt him to drop the key, abandon the lock, and call out my name—but I’m already gone.

Already turning away.

Catching a glimpse of Phyre watching from the shadows, her eyes strange and glittering as they stare into mine.

I veer toward her. Deciding Lita’s right, it’s time I confront her, demand to know what she’s up to—what it is that she wants. Having just reached her when the rain ceases and becomes something else.

Something lighter.

Drier.

Something that lands in small white squares at my feet.

I lift my chin, close my eyes, and allow it to drift softly onto my cheeks.

Heart soaring in triumph—knowing I did this—I’m responsible—it’s because of me that it’s snowing!

Excited shouts reverberate all around me, as the club empties into the alleyway, crowding the street. Throngs of people pushing and shoving, eager to get to it first—to take part in the miracle, my miracle, the one that I wrought. Voices overlapping, they call, “Snow! It’s snowing—you’ve got to come see it!”

I turn, searching for Dace, needing to see his reaction. Finding him still beside the fence with his hands splayed before him, welcoming the bright white squares that fall onto his flesh.

His chin lifting, gaze darkening, as he motions to me—urges me to see what he sees.

It’s not at all what we think.

Snow is crisp. Pure. Wet.

It doesn’t smudge.

Doesn’t leave a trail of charcoal when rubbed.

Only ash can do that.

We gaze at each other, separated by a shroud of white ash falling steadily between us, and a surge of people eager to witness a miracle that’s really a curse. Dancing and twirling under the deluge, not realizing they’ve got it all wrong.

Not realizing they’re in the grip of something far darker, far more sinister than they could ever conceive.

The earth beginning to tremble as those same squares of ash become a torrent of flames that fall from the sky.

It’s the prophecy come to life, just like the codex foretold: The other side of midnight’s hour strikes a herald thrice rung Seer, Shadow, Sun—together they come

Sixteen winters hence—the light shall be eclipsed Leaving darkness to ascend beneath a sky bleeding fire All around me shouts of excitement quickly turn to fear, as a crowd of people fight to take cover, push their way back inside. Forcing me to shove my way through them, my need to confront Phyre all but forgotten, as I go in search of my friends. Warning Xotichl, Lita, and Auden to run, to find a way out of here—to get as far from this place as they possibly can.

“What about you?” Xotichl’s face pales as her fingers push into my sleeve, understanding all to well just what this means.

“I’m going to stop this. Fix this. If it’s the last thing I do.”

I jerk free of her grip, aware of her voice calling after me but unable to distinguish the words as I race toward the vortex.





forty-three


Dace

“What have you done with her?” I grip Phyre by the shoulders, demanding an answer. Last I saw, Daire was standing before her, and now she’s as good as disappeared.

Phyre smiles, her gaze heavy and glazed. “Wasn’t me. I swear it,” she says, her voice adopting a tone so strange I have no idea how to interpret the words.

“Where’d she go?” My own voice is frantic, determined. Sure she’s playing some sinister part in this, no matter how crazy it seems. But she just remains propped between my hands, staring dreamily at a night wrought with flames.

“It’s starting.” She speaks in a whisper. “The Last Days are here. This is one of the signs.”

I roll my eyes. Dig my fingers deeper into her flesh, hoping to awaken her from her trance. “It’s no such thing. Your father is crazy.” Though my words go unheard, she’s transfixed by a sky bleeding fire.

“I tried to warn you. Tried to talk to you. Remind you of what we once shared—if only so you could see what I see—know what I know.” Her gaze is unreachable, voice weary, defeated. “But you didn’t want to listen, and now this…” She gestures to the chaos occurring all around us. “Now it’s too late for any of us.”

I grip her shoulders tighter, searching for some hint of the girl I once knew. A sad, beautiful, complicated girl with a crazy doomsday prophet of a father. A girl who lost her mother too young—vanishing without a trace, her body never found. A girl I once cared about, however briefly.

“Come with me, Dace.” She trains her focus on me. “My father will help us. Save us. He’ll know exactly how to survive this.”

“Your father can’t help anyone,” I remind her, but one look in her eyes tells me my words fail to penetrate. Still, I can’t help but add, “Get yourself out of here. Go to Leftfoot’s—he’ll look after you.”