Fated (The Soul Seekers #1)(58)
Though I should’ve known better. Paloma’s gaze is all-seeing. Glancing between the empty hook over the sill and me, she says “So, tell me, how was your first day at school?”
I sigh. Shake my head. My eyes meeting hers when I say, “Terrible.” Figuring there’s no use lying, no point in pouring a thick coating of sugar over it. But just after I’ve said it, I realize the word may have been a bit overstated. It wasn’t all bad. While Xotichl and Auden were definitely a little heavy on the lovefest—meeting them was still one of the brighter spots.
The other bright spot was Dace, though I’m not quite ready to admit that—or at least not in that way.
Paloma sits beside me, the mattress dipping ever so slightly under the weight of her tiny frame. “So, your first day was so horrible you chose to fortify your ego with magick?” She thrusts her hand before me, demanding the return of the dream catcher we both know I hid. And though her words seem judgmental on the surface, her eyes tell a whole other story—they’re brimming with compassion, letting me know she understands all too well.
I slip my fingers under the pillow and hand over the goods, watching as she moves toward the window and puts the dream catcher back in its place, as I say, “I met Cade. Again.”
She nods. Flicks a finger against the dream catcher’s fringe, watching it sway back and forth. “And?” She turns to face me.
“And, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was devastatingly handsome and utterly charming. I’d think I was the luckiest girl in the world to have a boy like that notice me. But since I do know better, he just gives me the creeps.”
“Good.” She nods. “No matter what happens, you must never forget that.”
I gaze down at my hands. Pick at a loose string on my blanket. “I met Dace too, and he’s just like he is in the dreams. And every time I try to get an impression of him…”
Paloma returns to the bed, where she sits at the foot.
“Well, the impression is always … good. It’s the opposite of Cade, and I need to know more about him. We have a class together, so there’s no way to avoid him, though I’m not sure how to handle him.”
She nods, folds her hands in her lap, eyes flashing when she says, “Dace is not your enemy.” She pauses, allowing the words to sink in. “The reason I warned you about Cade and not Dace is because Cade is the one you must watch. Don’t ever forget that, nieta. And never confuse the two, no matter what.” She rubs her hands over her dress, fidgets with the hem, then after rising from the bed, she heads for the dresser, where she stands before Django’s picture and says, “I didn’t tell you earlier because…”
I clutch my pillow and wait—wait for something to happen, for some big revelation. But for a while anyway, all I get is a view of her back.
“They’re only identical on the surface.” She sighs, the sound heavy and deep, belying some hidden meaning she’s not sure she’ll reveal. “They were raised separately, didn’t meet until their first year of high school. Cade grew up with his father, Leandro—while Dace was raised by his mother, Chepi. They’ve had very different upbringings, which makes for very different views of the world.”
“Why were they raised separately? Why didn’t they at least know about each other? This town is so tiny—how’s that even possible?” I ask, knowing she’s hiding something, though I can’t imagine why, much less what.
She clasps and unclasps her hands, debating whether or not to tell me, then she takes a deep breath and says, “Dace grew up on the reservation—he and Chepi rarely left—while Cade lived in town. His father’s family, the Richters, are quite wealthy, they own most of the businesses here and run all the public services, not to mention his father’s been mayor for many, many years. Chepi had nothing to do with their world. When she found herself pregnant with the twins, she was the beautiful young daughter of a well-respected medicine man named Jolon—a truly revered, much-sought-after healer, who was said to work miracles and have a direct link to the divine.”
“So, let me get this straight.” I look at her. “Chepi, the good girl, decides to hook up with Leandro, the bad boy—trouble ensues—she gets knocked up—the news devastates her father who held such high hopes for her…” I frown, trying not to judge, but it sounds like the Django and Jennika story. Except Jennika was never what you’d call good, and Django wasn’t all that bad; still, the stories aren’t without their similarities.
But before I can finish, Paloma’s already shaking her head, saying, “No, nieta, it’s not nearly as simple as that. You see, Chepi was very young, very innocent, and very devoted to Jolon. She never would’ve gone off with Leandro on her own. She was studying as Jolon’s apprentice, and many say she showed great promise. Everyone assumed she’d succeed him someday—but Leandro interfered, making sure to derail all their plans.” She looks at me, gaze clouded with memory. “Leandro is very much the opposite of Jolon. He’s a dangerous sorcerer who hails from a long line of them. The Santoses have been battling the Richters for years … centuries really, and not always here. While we made very good progress for a very long time, while we were able to subdue them and keep them in line, in more recent years, with the arrival of Leandro, things have changed for the worse. They’re no longer happy with just amassing their fortune—their ambitions extend far beyond that. They’re changing this town. It wasn’t always so depressed, like it is now. It used to be a good match for its name—if you can imagine such a thing. But over the past few decades it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep them contained. They’ve messed with so many minds—the townspeople feel alternately awed by them and indebted to them. And without Django’s help, I’m afraid I’m no match for them on my own, their ranks are too strong.” She takes a deep breath—runs both hands over the lap of her dress. “Anyway, Leandro was determined to use Chepi for his own sordid purposes, and so, on the night of Día de los Muertos, he set out to find her, and from that moment on, life as she knew it was over.”