Mystic

  She leans forward, forces a smile to her lips. And I know this is it. One more exhale, that rope will snap, and Dace and Cade are history.

  While I’m nearly ready for her, nearly ready to put the plan I’ve been working on this whole time into action, I need a few moments more. So I do what I can to distract her.

  “I have a similar situation,” I say, chancing only the briefest glance her way, enough to make sure I’ve successfully stalled her, if only temporarily. “I was furious when I first learned I was the Seeker. I even tried to run away. Though clearly, I didn’t get very far.”

  “It’s not the same.” She scowls, rolls her eyes, and gets into position again.

  “Not the same, but similar. You have to admit that it’s similar.” My voice rings too frantic, too desperate, I seriously need to tone it down. Still, it does seem to bear some effect. As witnessed by the way Phyre leans back ever so slightly, closes her lips, twists her mouth to the side. “Like you, I also have a destiny.” I swallow hard. Remind myself I can do this. Try not to think about how many times it’s recently failed. “But unlike you, my destiny is for the greater good…” I rub my lips together. Start counting down in my head.

  One … I slowly lift my hand.

  Two … I flatten my palm, turn it toward the dagger.

  Three … I beg a silent plea to the universe: Please, don’t let this fail me!

  “And mine?” Her voice is snappy, impatient.

  “And yours…” I grit my teeth, spread my fingers, and prepare for what’s next.

  “Speak, Seeker!” she screams. Her voice reverberating so loudly, it causes the flames to surge, the tree limbs to shake, and the dagger to drop even farther, dangling precariously.

  “And yours is just a bunch of made-up bullshit created by your psychotic dad.”

  My eyes meet hers, confirming the outrage I intentionally put there. I only hope my timing was right.

  She leans toward the sculpture and heaves an exhale so forceful, the heat from the flames causes the rope holding the dagger to instantly snap, allowing it to careen straight for Dace’s soul.

  I watch the progression.

  I don’t dare blink.

  With my hand held open before me, I beg another silent plea.

  Calling on my powers of telekinesis, which lately have been tenuous at best. But right now, it’s all that I’ve got.

  Well, that, and my intent. Which, according to Paloma, is magick’s most important ingredient.

  And yet, despite my best intentions, despite my fervent prayer, the dagger, now just a razor’s width away from Dace’s soul—refuses to alter its path.

  It slams straight down.

  Straight into the space where Dace’s soul once stood.

  I scream an unearthly involuntary sound. Gape in outraged disbelief.

  Silencing when I see the way Phyre stares at me and I follow her gaze to my hand.

  My intention was to save Dace’s soul, and it appears I did exactly that.

  My telekinesis didn’t fail me.

  It merely forfeited the dagger in place of the object that truly mattered most.

  While the dagger fell, the soul found its way to my hand.

  With eyes blazing as bright as the flames that she set, Phyre lets out a horrible wail and charges straight toward me. The force of her body slamming into mine knocks the air flat out of me, as the soul slips free of my grasp.

  It hovers above us, as we both desperately claw for it. Though it’s not long before it begins to drift into the sky.

  Phyre shoves off me, jumps to her feet. As I scramble to catch up, keep her from claiming it.

  Because of the fires she set, the once heavy blanket of snow is now melting around us. Turning to a thick, viscous mud that bungles the chase, leaving us slipping, sliding, losing our balance but never our will in pursuit of Dace’s soul.

  “You can’t save him,” she shouts, racing before me. “It’s the Word. It is written. It is already happening. There is nothing you can do to change it.”

  I lengthen my stride, fight like hell to overtake her. And when my feet finally hit a patch of dry land, providing me some much-needed traction, I leap toward the sky, leap toward Dace’s soul—only to watch as Phyre reaches it first.

  She captures it in her outstretched hands. Pulls it in close to her chest. The sight of this crazed, unhinged girl handling something so fragile, so delicate, so precious, so easily destroyed—leaves me breathless and horrified.

  She stares at it with wide, dreamy eyes, transfixed by the sight of it. But when she notices my approach, she pulls it even closer. Wrapping a protective arm around it, she clucks her tongue and says, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  I lift my palms in surrender, stand silently before her. Watching as she snakes a hand into her pocket and retrieves the turquoise-and-silver lighter she lifted from Cade.

  “Did you know my middle name is Oleander?” Her eyes briefly meet mine. “Phyre Oleander Youngblood. How’s that for a mouthful?” she muses, idly flicking the lighter’s ribbed metal wheel with the pad of her thumb. “Although I wasn’t given the name until I was sixteen. That’s when my destiny was sealed. Though it started way back when I was eight. My father told me it was a great honor. One that I should bear proudly. Never mind that it nearly killed me on more than one occasion. But, as it turns out, when it’s all said and done, my father was right. Then again, he usually is.” She reaches into her pocket again. This time retrieving a perfect pink blossom with a short, thin stem she props between her front teeth.

  At first I assume she’s going to swallow it whole, but a moment later I watch as she pulls the flowerless stem from her lips and uses the lighter to set it ablaze. The mere act of flame meeting stem is enough to cause a thick cloud of acrid smoke to surround me, leaving me gagging, choking, blurring my vision until everything around me begins to shimmer and halo. Rendering it nearly impossible to keep an eye on Dace’s soul when every single thing is glistening, glimmering with a nimbus of light.

  “It’s really too bad it had to end this way.” Phyre assumes a thoughtful expression, as hundreds of brilliant orbs dance between us. “Under different circumstances, I’m sure we could’ve been friends.” She smiles briefly, purses her lips, and exhales a deep breath she directs right at me. Engulfing me in a cloud so noxious I can’t help but fall to my knees.

  My body seized by convulsions, my vision swimming with the illusion of glimmering orbs, I clutch hard at the ground and claw my way toward her. Stealing a moment to jerk the neck of my sweater up past my chin, until it covers my nose and my mouth, hoping it will filter the smoke long enough for me to defeat her.

  When I face her again, I’m amazed to see a whole host of spirit animals are beginning to creep out of hiding.

  The snow is melting.

  The earth is warming.

  Their forced hibernation has come to an end.

  I count rabbits, skunks, squirrels, and sparrows among them. Yet still no one I recognize. No one with any obligation to help me.

  I continue to squint through the smoke and haze, as Phyre moves tantalizingly close, Dace’s soul precariously balanced on her palm.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Her fingers flex, soften, then flex again. Leaving no doubt that one solid squeeze will see that it’s done. “It’s so fragile. So delicate. So easily … crushed.” She curls her fingers. Looks right at me. “So strange to hold the soul of the boy you love in the palm of your hand. I’m afraid this is it, Daire. He belongs to none of us now.”

  Her fingers clench.

  Her eyes fill with tears.

  And I use the moment to duck my head low and barrel straight toward her. Knocking her right off her feet, sending her soaring into the sky, her arms windmilling wildly. Until she slams hard into the ground, with me right on top, and the force of the jolt causes the soul to slip free, just as I’d hoped.

  I push off her and watch its progression. Hoping with everything I have in me that th
e familiar presence I spotted in the distance is still on my side.

  Catch it! Oh please, catch it!

  Phyre leaps to her feet, tries to get past me, but it’s too late.

  Raven has already swooped down.

  Already caught it in his opened beak.

  And by the time he makes the handoff to Horse, I turn back to find Phyre has fled.

  thirty-six

  Dace

  “How do you feel?” Daire hugs me tight at the waist, resting her chin on my shoulder in a way that causes her soft strands of hair to brush over my cheek. Our bodies swaying in tandem to Horse’s easy gait.

  “Good. Still good.” I crick my neck just enough to take in her glittering green eyes, the rosy flush of her cheeks, captured by the absolute wonder of her.

  “Like your old self?” She narrows her eyes. Gnaws hard on her lip. A move I recognize for what it is—an attempt to keep her joy contained—her hopes well in check.

  I flatten my lips, and stare straight ahead. “No. Not yet,” I say, preparing for the lie to come. “But someday. Someday soon. I’m sure of it.” I nod to confirm it, but the truth is, I have no proof whatsoever to back up my words.

  While I may have gotten my soul back, it still bears Cade’s mark.

  The day I took a soul jump into my twin, I came away changed.

  There’s a good chance I may never find my way back.

  “Dace—can I see your eyes?” Her voice is both forceful and tentative. And I’m amazed yet again at her ability to do that. To ease my fears as though they never existed, convincing me to do the one thing I’d prefer to avoid.

  With a heavy heart, I allow my gaze to meet hers, only to see her flinch in response.

  “Oh.” She drops her gaze to her lap, unsure what to make of it—make of me. As though she needs some time to process and think.

  I heave a ragged breath, preparing myself to lose her again. But there’s no way to prepare for something like that. I can’t imagine my world without Daire.

  “I thought maybe…” Her voice fades. There’s no need to finish when the unspoken bits are easy to guess.

  “Daire—” I pause, backing away from the lie I told earlier. It was a cowardly, self-serving act. If nothing else, I owe her the truth. “I’m afraid it won’t be that easy. Now that I’ve stolen a piece of Cade, I have no idea how to get rid of it.”

  She absorbs my words with a serious face, a determined tilt of her chin, as she asks, “What can I do? How can I help?”

  I squint. Not sure I heard right.

  She wants to help? Does that mean she’s not looking to leave?

  “There must be something I can do,” she says. “And, if not me, then maybe Paloma will know of something—or even Chepi, or Leftfoot, or Chay. Between the four of them, the elders are like a storehouse of remedies and magickal secrets.”

  I swallow hard. Feeling a little choked by her words. And more than a little ashamed for doubting her. Daire’s a fighter. Loyal to a fault. She doesn’t give up on anyone.

  I reach behind me, cup a hand to the outside of her thigh. “This is not one for the Seeker,” I say. “This is my mess to fix.”

  “But—you’re still you, right?”

  I gaze straight ahead, tracking the path Raven sets. “Yes,” I say, voice barely audible. “I’m still me—though a slightly changed version of me. I’m no longer pure goodness and light. The darkness inside causes me to feel differently—see differently…” I squeeze her leg, needing her to understand the magnitude of my words. “But there’s one thing that will never change.”

  She stiffens behind me, as though prepared for the worst.

  “My love and devotion for you.”

  She exhales a soft breath, presses tightly against me, until I’m keenly aware of the swell of her breasts pushing hard at my back.

  I close my eyes and release an involuntary groan. Wondering if she has any idea of the way her nearness affects me.

  I’ve been weak for so long. Immersed in a bleak hellish world, haunted by regrets. But now, with my soul intact, with my life force thrumming within me, and the heat of Daire’s body insistently pressing against me, it’s all I can do to keep my desire contained.

  I inch my fingers up the length of her thigh, cup a hand around her backside, and pull her even closer. Torn between reveling in the sensation of every curve and valley of her body conforming to mine, and trying to shield her from the depths of my need. Not entirely convinced I should initiate this when I’m not entirely me.

  But when she slips a warm hand under my sweater and finds my flesh eager and willing—I forfeit the struggle. The world suddenly reduced to the only thing that really matters—the two of us being together.

  “Daire—” My voice is hoarse, thick with craving. “Before we head back, what do you think about taking some time for ourselves? Take a little break from our problems? It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”

  “You mean the Enchanted Spring?”

  Her lips smile into my neck. Her fingers snake under my waistband, mold warm to my flesh. Her touch so sure and insistent, I’m hers to command.

  “I’m pretty sure Horse and Raven are way ahead of us.”

  With her free hand, she points straight ahead, and that’s when I realize that all of this time, our spirit animals have been leading us to these magickal waters.

  Horse and Raven wander away, as Daire and I shed our clothes quickly and wade into the spring. She smiles, her face bright and happy, then placing a hand on each of my shoulders she dunks me under the water until we’re fully submerged. Only to emerge a few moments later, notably stronger, rested, and healed.

  “Despite what happened last time we were here, I refuse to let Cade tarnish the magick we’ve shared here.” Her voice is soft but determined, her astonishing green eyes flashing on mine. “I refuse to let him dictate our memories, or the way we perceive things.”

  I couldn’t agree more. But the sight of her standing before me—bared, glistening, and glorious, with droplets of water clinging like jewels to her skin—has rendered me speechless.

  “I just want this place to be ours once again.”

  She inches toward me, but like the starving man that I am, I get to her first. My fingers hungry for the feel of her flesh, my lips seeking hers. We kiss fully, deeply, our need for each other equally matched. And though I’ve yearned so long for this moment, it’s not long before I begin to want more.

  I want to taste her sweet skin.

  Immerse myself in her flesh.

  Still, I wait until I’m sure that she’s ready. Until she whispers my name in a voice thick with need.

  I lift her into my arms and out of the spring. Placing her upon a soft patch of grass, I steal a moment to admire the long, languid sight of her body, the sweep of her hair clinging damp to her shoulders, before I swoop down to join her.

  “Dace,” she whispers, her lips teasing my ear. “What if it wasn’t a mistake? What if the darkness now living inside you is part of your fate?”

  I pull away, peer deep into her eyes.

  “If darkness defines the light—perhaps this will make you shine even brighter?”

  I’m not sure if the words are meant to assure me or her, but her willingness to accept me, to seek the goodness in me just as I am, sends me over the top.

  I curve my body over hers. Sink into her arms. Desperately seeking the sweet scent of her skin, the taste of her lips, the mysteries of her flesh.

  And when she smiles and nods, inviting me in, I fall deeper into her than ever before.

  thirty-seven

  Daire

  By the time we make it to Leftfoot’s all of the elders are gathered around the kitchen table, as though they’ve been not so patiently waiting for us.

  Everyone except Paloma, that is.

  She’s the only one missing.

  Chepi’s the first to react. At the sight of Dace, she bolts from her chair, and hurries toward him in a blur of whimpers and tears.
She hugs him tightly, murmurs softly in their native tongue. Then draws away, cups her palms to the sides of his cheeks, and carefully studies his eyes.

  “You are back.” Her voice rings surprisingly steady and sure, defying her highly emotional state. “Yet a darkness remains.”

  Dace averts his gaze, extricating himself from her grip. His features softening in relief when Leftfoot pulls him away and says, “Come on, let’s have a look at you.” The old medicine man leads him into the spare room to check his vital signs, and Chepi’s quick to follow, leaving me alone with Chay.

  I claim the seat beside him and say, “Where is she?” My gaze skims over his broad nose, defined cheekbones, and hooded brown eyes, before coming to rest on the dark glossy ponytail that hangs just past his collar. “I assumed Paloma would be here, awaiting our return with the rest of you.”

  Chay hesitates. Making careful study of the intricate silver eagle-head ring he always wears with deep golden stones standing in for the eyes. “Paloma stayed back at the house,” he finally says, the words as guarded as the expression masking his face.

  “Why?” I lean toward him, alerted by the nagging twinge that pulls at my gut, along with his clouded gaze and grim lips. Chay’s far too honorable to be a good liar. Deception is not a sport that comes easily to him. If he’s not lying, at the very least, he’s holding something back.

  “She’s not feeling well,” he says, exhaling deeply as he squares his gaze on mine. “I urged her to rest. Promised her I’d hold vigil until you and Dace returned.”

  I splay my hands on the table and take a series of slow steady breaths in an attempt to center myself and quell my growing alarm. It’s more than that. Something’s wrong. I can tell. Chay is far more concerned than he lets on.