“What is it?” I say, voice rising with suspicion. “What’s going on? Somebody tell me what happened—where’s Dace?”
“Nieta—” Paloma starts.
But Xotichl cuts in, saying, “Daire, that wasn’t the prophecy.”
“Of course it was!” I look at them like they’ve all gone mad. “I know exactly how the prophecy went. I memorized it word for word! 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!” I recite the prediction so quickly the words all blend together. “If that wasn’t the prophecy, I don’t know what is! Me, Dace, and Cade—we were all born on the same day, just after midnight, sixteen years ago. Seer, Shadow, and Sun—that’s code for the three of us. The sky bled fire during our sixteenth winter, on Christmas Eve. And, in the end, Cade killed me. Only he didn’t. He just thinks that he did.” I pause, needing a moment to replenish my breath before I go on to say, “The sky was bleeding fire! I know you all saw it—there was no way you could’ve possibly missed it!”
“While we definitely saw it,” Xotichl says. “Thing is—it wasn’t a natural event.”
My gaze darts between them, having no idea what that means.
“The timing was right,” Paloma says in a cool, calm, authoritative voice. “But Cade was too impatient to allow it to unfold on its own, so he forced it into being. Cade made the sky burn.”
“I … I don’t understand.” My voice is distant, as though it belongs to someone else. “I don’t get it,” I repeat, though the truth is, I’m beginning to.
A forgotten space in my memory has now cleared, revealing something Cade said just after confronting me in the Lowerworld. Just after I taunted him for being stupid enough to virtually firebomb his own town.
“It’s the prophecy, Daire … It just needed a little push to get started.”
“Cade forced the prophecy so he could put his plan into motion.” Paloma fights to keep her expression steady, but the grim look in her eyes betrays her worst fears.
“Maybe so,” I say, desperate to hang on to what I once thought was true. “But I was there, and I’m telling you it played out just like it read.”
“Nieta, the night you disappeared, the night the snow began to fall, the prophecy vanished from the Codex. Chay and I watched as the words lifted right off the page.”
“And now that you’re back, they’ve returned!” Lita jabs a thumb toward the office where Paloma keeps the ancient tome, wearing the excited, clued-in look of someone newly admitted to a clandestine club denied them too long. Clearly Paloma and Xotichl have filled her in on some of Enchantment’s more mystical secrets.
“And, what does it say?” I ask, voice weary, head spinning, trying to make sense of everything I’ve just learned.
“It’s…” Lita pauses, bites down on her lip, looks to Paloma and Xotichl to say what she’s unwilling to.
“It’s in transition,” Xotichl says. “Blurry and unclear. Which makes me think it’s malleable—possibly up to you to decide.”
I stare at them, speechless. All too aware that if what they say is true, if that wasn’t really the prophecy, then it’s quite possible that my perceived death didn’t actually serve to avert anything.
Which means …
“Where’s Dace?” My gaze moves among them—suddenly realizing that up until now, they’ve successfully avoided answering that very question. “Where’s Dace?” I leap from the couch, finding no comfort in the three sets of grief-stricken faces that meet mine. Voice shaking, I say, “Somebody better answer me quick, because I’m assuming the worst.” I look frantically between them. And it’s only a moment later when Paloma is beside me, lowering me back to the couch, and to my surprise, I allow it.
“No one has seen him, nieta.” Paloma clasps my hand between both of hers.
“No one? What about Chepi, Leftfoot, Chay?” I ask, knowing how stupid that sounds, I’m sure the elders have been in touch daily.
“No one has seen him since the night you disappeared.” Paloma’s voice is as gentle as her touch.
“And how long has that been? How long have I been gone?”
“A few days. You disappeared on Christmas Eve,” Xotichl says.
A few days. Not as long as I feared, but still longer than I’d hoped.
“And Cade?” My heart stops, refusing to beat until someone answers me. “Please tell me someone has seen him! The twins are connected, if Cade dies, Dace dies. But only if Cade is in human form. If he’s in demon form, then Dace can die without him—” The words sound jumbled, making sense only to me.
“Actually … someone might’ve seen him,” Lita says, causing Xotichl and Paloma to whirl on her in shock. “And, if it’s true, then apparently he’s spreading a rumor that Dace is dead.”
“Dace is not dead!” I say. “He can’t be!” But just after it’s out, I realize my gut instinct is my only real proof to back up my words. I pray it hasn’t failed me.
Xotichl whirls on Lita, looking as furious as she’s capable of being. “And you’re just now telling us this, because…”
Lita lifts her shoulders, blows her long, angled bangs out of her eyes. “It’s not like I’m the one who saw him. But I overhead Phyre talking about it at the Rabbit Hole. I didn’t mention it because I assumed she was just making it up to sound important, and I saw no use in upsetting you and Auden over what I was sure was just a rumor. Anyway, from what I could hear, she claims she ran into Cade a few days ago, and that’s what he told her. She said it’s the reason he’s been laying low. Despite the fact that he and Dace were never close, he’s surprised by how devastated he is over the loss. Says it must be something to do with the strange connection twins share … blah, blah, blah. Oh, and the whole time she was telling the story, she really played it up big. Doing her best to appear heartbroken, but I’m telling you right now it was a total fake out.” She shakes her head and scowls. Then seeing the way Paloma and Xotichl react to her words, she says, “What? I don’t see the point in beating around the bush. Daire’s the Seeker … a bit of a banged-up Seeker, but she’s still our only hope left. Lying to her is not going to benefit anyone. And the thing is, with Cade and Phyre both claiming that Dace is dead, doesn’t it make you wonder if they might be working together?”
“I don’t believe Dace is dead,” Xotichl says. “I don’t care what they say. I think I would’ve felt it.”
“I know I would’ve felt it,” I say, struggling to rise once again.
“Nieta, please.” Paloma tries to force me back onto the cushions as Lita shoots a dubious look toward my dress.
Oh, right. The dress.
With a firm but loving hand placed on each of my shoulders, Paloma looks at me and says, “Nieta, listen—I understand you’re upset, and you have every reason to feel the way you do. But the problem is, you’re acting on pure emotion and fear, and that will never lead to anything good. If you want to find Dace, if you want to help Dace, you’ll need to set your emotions aside long enough to take the proper steps to come up with a plan.”
“And what would those proper steps be?” I ask, surprised by the soothing effect of her touch, her voice, the undeniable wisdom she speaks.
“First you will use the time it takes me to prepare a proper poultice and a light meal, to rest your weary body and calm your frantic mind. Then, after you’ve eaten and I’ve tended to your wound, I will prepare some things for your trip.”
“My trip?” I look at her, having no idea what she’s referring to.
“If you want to find Dace, you’ll have to return to the last place you saw him. Am I correct in assuming that would be the Lowerworld?” At the slightest tip of my head, she says, “I will drive you to the vortex. But first things first.”
Paloma turns away, makes for her office, as Xotichl says, “I’m going with you.”
“Me too!” Lita echoes. “I’ll sta
rt by digging the Jeep out of the snow.” Before anyone can stop her, she races for the door. Shooting me a look over her shoulder, she adds, “And speaking of, when you get a chance, can you please make it stop snowing? Now that you’re back, it seems a little redundant.”
eleven
Daire
Paloma’s old white Jeep bucks and jumps over the poorly lit, deeply rutted dirt roads as she cuts through the reservation and heads for the grove of wildly twisted juniper trees marking the vortex.
“It’s not too late to bail.” I swivel toward my friends huddled into the small space in back, deciding to give them one last chance to opt out. “And trust me, if you’re smart, you will.”
“I’m not smart.” Xotichl turns to Lita.
“Nope, me neither,” Lita echoes, busily inspecting the ends of her hair. “Dumb as a doorknob, in fact.”
I glance at Paloma, and seeing her nod of approval, I say, “Okay, but just to be clear, the journey is extremely unpleasant. And Xotichl, you’ll have to leave your cane since it involves tunneling through deep layers of dirt. And while it doesn’t actually take all that long, the first time feels like forever. You can’t breathe, can’t see … oh, and did I mention the worms?”
Xotichl shrugs, flips her ponytail over her shoulder, and says, “Bring it.”
As Lita steadies her gaze on mine, and replies, “I’m not exactly the princess you take me for. I don’t mind getting a little dirty now and then.”
Paloma parks just shy of the trees, turns to me, and says, “I will wait here until you return.”
I try to protest, telling her I have no idea how long it will take, and how worried I am by her weakened appearance, but she’s not having it.
“Do not worry for me, nieta. Keep your focus on the task at hand. The Lowerworld is not as you left it. Though much like Xotichl, you don’t need to rely on your vision to see.” She hugs me tightly to her chest, and despite her frail state, her touch fills me with enough strength to lead my friends toward the trees with more confidence than I feel.
“Just follow me, and do what I do,” I tell them. “And no matter how tempted you might be, do not try to stop the fall, or worse, claw your way up. It never works, and it’ll just make the trip take that much longer. Allow the fall to happen naturally, without resistance. And the second you sense the first hint of light at the end of the tunnel, try to curl your body into as tight a ball as you can. It really helps to cushion the landing, which can be a little rough.”
I glance behind me, and seeing they’re not the least bit inhibited by my warnings, I launch myself forward. Aware of them falling behind, one by one, as we’re swallowed deep into the earth, before landing in a hard bank of snow with Lita flailing beside me in a crazy tangle of limbs, as Xotichl exits last, rolling to a stop just as I coached.
“You really weren’t kidding about the dirt.” Lita brushes her hands against her knees and begins plucking pebbles and twigs and assorted debris from her hair.
“Or the worms.” Xotichl straightens her coat as I help her to her feet. “I felt one skim right past my cheek. Luckily it was gone before I had a chance to properly freak.”
I squint against the glare and take a good look around, unable to determine just where we’ve landed since all of the usual landmarks are covered with a heavy dusting of snow, with more accumulating each passing minute. Paloma was right about it not looking at all like I left it. Hopefully the snow-stopping ritual I worked just before leaving her house will begin to kick in without too much delay.
“So, this is the Lowerworld.” I glance at my friends. “What do you think?”
Lita places her hands on her hips and takes a good look around. “Well, I’m sure it’s really nice. But at the moment, there’s so much snow, it looks a lot like Enchantment.”
“Trust me, underneath the snow it’s far more beautiful than Enchantment.” I shove my hands under my armpits in an effort to warm them, and continue to survey the area. Dismayed to find it absent of spirit animals, including Raven who’s usually waiting to greet my arrival.
Have the animals been forced into hibernation because of the snow?
“Is it always like this?” Xotichl asks.
“No.” I frown, not liking what I see. “While I’ve never visited in the dead of winter, I’m sure this place doesn’t change seasons. Before Cade corrupted it, it pretty much existed in a state of eternal spring. The flowers were forever in bloom, the grass was lush and green. Like golf course grass, only better.” I sigh at the memory. “But despite Cade turning it into a wasteland, last I saw, just before I left, it was definitely returning to its usual springlike state once again.”
“Since this is where our spirit animals live, do you think we might meet them?” Xotichl’s face is lit with the possibility of meeting Bat who’s been guiding her since the day she was born, and I hate to disappoint her.
“I was hoping they’d be waiting for us. They usually are,” I tell her. “But with all of this cold and snow, I can only assume that they’re hibernating.”
And since they can’t guide us if they’re sleeping, that can’t be a good thing.
Though I’m careful to keep my concerns to myself. No use worrying my friends when I’m merely speculating without any proof.
“So normally I would see Opossum down here?” Lita twirls a long chunk of hair around a mitten-covered finger.
I nod, but the truth is, I’m so distracted with trying to determine which way to go, the question barely registers.
“So, if Opossum were here, I could actually meet him and he wouldn’t even try to bite me?” she asks, as though she can hardly imagine such a thing.
“Yes, Lita. You and your red-eyed Opossum would frolic through the forest just like they do in Disney movies.” Xotichl laughs.
“That is not at all charming.” Lita frowns. “I mean, why can’t I have a cuter spirit animal? Something adorable and cuddly, like a bunny? Or even something cool, like a fox?” Then realizing what she just said, she looks around and in a raised voice says, “Just kidding! No offense! Love you, Opossum!”
I move ahead of my friends. Hoping to hide my confusion about which direction to take when nothing appears as I left it. I cup my hand to my brow and glance all around, as Xotichl and Lita chatter behind me in a way so distracting I’m just about to say something I’ll no doubt live to regret, when I force myself to choke back the words and see the situation from their point of view.
Everyone has their own way of handling stress. Some go inward, like me. Some reach outward, like them. And despite the dire circumstances we face, they must feel pretty excited to transcend the known world for one that most people don’t even realize exists. It’s the enormity of the task that’s making me grumpy, not them. Not to mention how the abundance of snow and cold is starting to grate.
Did I really cause all of this? Was my dying wish fulfilled to a ridiculous degree?
“Even though the nonstop snow-a-thon is kind of annoying, it does offer a sort of stark, quiet beauty, doesn’t it?” Xotichl’s voice drifts from behind me, and it’s enough to knock me right out of my thoughts.
Lita and I whirl toward her, our voices overlapping as we cry, “Xotichl—can you see it?”
Her beautiful heart-shaped face lifts into a grin.
“For real?” Lita stands wide-eyed before her.
“Don’t get too excited.” Xotichl laughs, pushing Lita lightly on the arm, until she’s moving again. “I can’t see it in the same way you can. But I can make out all of the lines and curves and shapes and shadows in a way I’ve never been able to before. Usually all I can see are the colorful energy patterns that people and objects emit. But this—well, this is something else entirely.”
“Good to know this place has managed to hang onto its magick,” I say, exchanging a look of astonishment with Lita as I trudge a few steps ahead, and Lita begins to grill Xotichl. Insisting she describe everything she sees in great detail.
When I stop to ge
t my bearings, Lita comes up alongside me and says, “I hope you’re not upset because we’re talking so much when we should be looking for Dace.” Her large brown eyes droop at the sides. “It’s just—it’s so exciting with Xotichl being able to see and all…”
I shake my head and look all around.
“Then what is it?” she asks. “Are we here?”
I clamp my lips together and swallow a sigh. Not wanting my friends to know just how lost we really are.
“Do we even know where here is?” She shoots me a hopeful look.
“We’re headed for the last place I saw him—the Enchanted Spring.”
“And what do we do when we get there?” Xotichl asks.
Trying to drum up more confidence than I feel, I turn to them, and say, “I’m hoping one of us will be able to intuit something from the energy left over from the event.”
“I’m not sure I understand.” Lita wears a skeptical look.
“Everything is energy,” Xotichl says. “Paloma taught me that, but you’ll also learn it in science class. And energy is eternal. It can never be destroyed.”
“But it can be transformed.” I look at them. “That’s how I made it snow. Simple alchemy—the transference of energy.” I start walking again, veering slightly to the left and hoping it works.
“Simple, huh?” Lita trudges behind me. “Maybe for you guys, but not for someone like me.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Xotichl says. “It’s not as hard as it seems, you just have to grasp the concept. Anyway, since energy never dies, theoretically speaking, the same should hold true for the energy of events.”
“And Paloma taught you this?”
“She’s taught me all kinds of things. But most importantly, she taught me how to read the energetic vibration of both inanimate objects and all living things.”
“So, all this time you could see my energy?” Lita asks, and it’s clear from her tone she’s not sure how to feel about that.