Mystic

  I grin in appreciation. “And third?” My gaze meets hers.

  “Meet me in my bedroom when you’re ready. There’s one last ritual still left to perform.”

  * * *

  Paloma swipes two oversized decorative pillows from her bed and places them just a few feet apart on the colorful handwoven rug. Its border surrounded by a thick layer of salt and white tapered candles placed a few inches apart. “Your mother must be very relieved,” she says.

  “Relieved I’m alive. Angry I didn’t call her the second I returned. Bursting into tears every time I spoke, telling me that she feared she’d never hear my voice again, while in the next breath insisting she knew deep down inside I was alive. You know, typical Jennika.” I grin at the memory. Vowing to visit her in L.A. just as soon as this whole mess is over. “Oh, and just so you know, she also threatened to board the first plane that’s headed this way.”

  Paloma’s eyes flash in alarm, which is something I rarely get to see. But then, just the mere thought of Jennika often has that effect on people.

  “I tried to dissuade her. Told her I wouldn’t be around much. That as of tonight, I’m heading into another dimension and I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. And she took it surprisingly well. Suspiciously well. Which means you can probably expect to find her on your doorstep within the next four to five hours. Anyway, what’s this about?” I motion toward the pillows.

  “We don’t have time for a sweat lodge, and I’m not sure I could bear the heat. This is the best I could do under the circumstances. I only hope that it works.” The words are spoken with an undercurrent of urgency that sets me on edge. She motions for me to take the pillow closest to me, as she claims the opposite one. The two of us facing each other, legs crossed, hands resting on our knees, she says, “I’m not sure if this will work, but I have to try.” She speaks in a tone so tense, I’m not sure what to make of it.

  “Paloma, what’s going on here? What is this?” I ask.

  “I’m going to attempt a lineage transmission where I pass on to you all of the teachings that were passed on to me from my mother who acted as the Seeker before me. Only for me, the teachings were passed down verbally. The same way I would’ve taught Django had he survived. The same way I’d hoped to teach you, but I’m afraid we’re running out of time.”

  I study her closely, desperate to know what’s really going on. Why everything she says results in an ominous chill that runs down my spine. “Paloma, is there something you want to tell me? Are you not feeling well? You worry about me looking pale and thin, but I could say the same thing for you.”

  “I spent the last few days fasting and praying for your return, that is all, nieta. I will regain my strength now that you’re back so do not waste your energy worrying for me. I only meant that now, with everything occurring so quickly, there’s no time to instruct you with the same methods in which I was taught. That is all.” She nods firmly, as though that’s the end of it, but the words leave me unsettled. “I’ve never conducted a lineage transmission this way. Nor have I taken part in one that was done in this manner. Still, I intend for it to work, and it’s the intention that matters the most.”

  “So what’s my part?” I’m eager to be a good student and do whatever I can to help this along. “What do you need me to do?”

  “First I need you to sit with your eyes closed and the back of your hands resting against your knees with your palms open so that they’re facing the ceiling.” Once I’m appropriately settled she goes on to say, “Now open your mind and clear it of thought as best you can.”

  “That’s not nearly as easy as it sounds.” I sneak an eye open. “A stylist on one of the movies Jennika once worked on tried to teach me how to meditate, but it was a failure. I couldn’t get my mind to shut up.”

  “Not to worry. Thoughts are natural. They’re going to pop up out of habit, if nothing else. But the majority of thoughts are meaningless, repetitive, and of no real value or benefit to you. So, when a thought like that appears, all you need to do is acknowledge its presence then be quick to let it go on its way. If you refuse to pay it any real notice, it will vanish on its own. You can begin any time.”

  “That’s it? I just sit here and dispose of random thoughts?”

  “No, nieta.” She leans toward me and presses a cool, dry palm to my forehead. “You just sit there and receive. I do the rest.”

  While I’m not exactly sure what she means, we’re not long into it before a stream of images flows into my head. At first, I’m a little overvigilant. Eager to excel as a receiver, I’m quick to push the images away. Until I realize they’re actually Paloma’s images that she’s sending to me—a series of ancient Seeker teachings that have been passed down through the centuries.

  I watch in fascination as incredible stories from previous Seekers, including Paloma’s own training rituals when she was my age, unfold in my head. And I can’t help but marvel at how youthful she was, how determined, strong, and eager to accept her destiny—a far cry from the way I initially tried to ditch mine.

  But, as it turns out, regretful thoughts are of no real value or benefit. So I’m quick to acknowledge them and send them away. Needing to clear as much room as possible for the endless reel of ancient rituals, healing practices, and mystical arts that stream through my head. I even get a glimpse into Paloma’s own vision quest. Watching as Wolf devoured her only to rebuild her again, much like Raven did with me.

  I observe her battles with Leandro, and while he’s not nearly as evil or ambitious as his favored son Cade, he’s a force to be reckoned with all the same. But what really strikes me is the way Paloma accepted her role without complaint. Dedicating herself to a life of great personal sacrifice in order to keep others safe, to keep the damage wreaked by Leandro contained. Her life story is a testament to her strength, assurance, and humility, and her reverence for her birthright is something I immediately vow to imitate.

  Her life continues to unspool, including the moment she learns her husband, my grandfather, the Brazilian Jaguar shaman, Alejandro, died in a plane crash. A tragedy she accepts with her usual blend of dignity and grace, all too aware that the Richters were responsible. Ultimately succeeding at taking her husband, her son, and, for a while anyway, me. Which only strengthens my vow to stop them. To do whatever it takes to see that it’s done—even if it means slaying every last one.

  When the images fade, she removes her hand from my forehead and places the blood-crusted athame onto my lap. “Now that you are imbued with this knowledge, I want you to keep your eyes closed as you silently call upon the Seekers who preceded you. When, and only when, you feel their presence, you will open your eyes and slowly pass this blade through the nearest flame until the blood is cleansed. Then you will extinguish the candles using only intent.”

  I rub my lips together, straighten my spine, and do as she says. And when I’m fully imbued with the power of my ancestors’ presence, I grip the hilt tightly and cut through the flame. Watching as the blood bubbles and sizzles until it’s reduced to a single droplet that emits a curl of black smoke that rises before me. Its writhing, undulating form expanding and contracting to represent all of the spirit animals of the long line of Seekers preceding me, while allowing a fleeting glimpse of how they were all felled by Coyote.

  All of them.

  Every single one ultimately losing the battle.

  Despite small moments of triumph, in the end, Coyote always won.

  When Raven appears before me, I can barely keep hold of the athame for fear of what I might see.

  “Raven is always with you,” Paloma says. “Just because you can’t always see him, does not mean he’s abandoned you.”

  Soon after, Coyote appears, and I watch as the two square off.

  “The same goes for your ancestors, and, someday, me.” Paloma’s voice provides the only source of comfort in a room reduced to one ominous point.

  Raven moves toward Coyote, looking small and defenseless, no match f
or the enemy.

  “You must never forget that, nieta. Someday you will need to call on all of us in a way you never have before. But you will do so without fear, assured that we will all be there.”

  The battle begins with Raven spreading his wings wide and Coyote crouching. The two launching toward each other, caught in midflight, when the droplet evaporates, the curl of smoke vanishes, and I drop the athame on my knee, feeling shaky and weak.

  “Abuela—” I start, only vaguely aware of the heat of the blade scorching my jeans.

  But she’s quick to shush me. “Extinguish the candles, nieta. I know you can do it.”

  Not only do I snuff out the candles, but I evaporate the ring of salt as well. But despite the success, it’s a far cry from the kind of skills I’ll need in order to defeat the enemy.

  “Although some of the images may have disturbed you, they were intended to empower you and remind you of the seriousness of the task you now face. While it’s easy to hate Coyote, it’s best not to be led by your hate. It always leads to impulsiveness and regret. No matter what happens from this point on, you must never give in to your baser instincts. Leave the hating to them. If you want to overcome Coyote, you have to become bigger, better, and stronger than they’re capable of being.”

  “But how? You saw the same thing I saw—I’m destined to lose—all of us are!”

  “That is not what I saw.”

  I look at her in confusion.

  “Your story is malleable. It is up for you to decide.”

  “But if all of my ancestors before me failed, how will I be any different?”

  “It’s all in the perspective, nieta. You can look at your predecessors as failures, or you can view them as multiple generations of Seekers who were able to keep the Richters from waging complete and total destruction.”

  I take a moment to consider her words. They make sense, but they don’t really comfort. “Still, in the end, the Richters always got the best of them. Why will it be any different for me?”

  “Because your light will lead the way.”

  “And theirs didn’t?”

  “That’s not for you to worry about. Aside from the skills that I shared with you, all you need to know is that darkness can never overcome darkness—only light can do that. Use your light, nieta. Learn to trust it. It’s the most reliable tool that you have.”

  A grin sneaks onto my face. “So, I can leave the athame behind?” I ask, desperate for a little light in a mood that’s turned gloomy.

  “No, take the athame.” Paloma grins, playing along. “It never hurts to have a good backup.”

  When I gaze down at the blade, a barrage of concerns resurfaces again. “You sure it’s okay?” I ask, remembering how it failed me the last time.

  “When you question its abilities, you question your own abilities,” Paloma says as though reading my mind. “Never allow yourself to fall into that trap.”

  I rise to my feet and hug her tightly to me. Choking back a sob as I say, “I’m so proud of you. I only hope that someday I can live up to the example you set.”

  “You already have,” she says, but while she means well, I know it’s not true. Or at least not yet, anyway.

  “I should go.” I swallow hard and pull away. Watching as Paloma heads for the chest of drawers where she retrieves my old green army jacket.

  “I’m afraid my fingers aren’t quite as nimble as they once were, but I know this is a favorite of yours, so I did my best to repair it.”

  I run a finger over the fresh lines of stitching mending the holes Cade Richter put there. Much like Axel mended the hole Cade ripped in my heart. If only everything could be stitched up so easily.

  I avert my gaze until the threat of tears passes as she helps me into my jacket. Her slim fingers straightening the collar, she says, “I would join you, but—”

  I meet her gaze and grin. “Now why would you want to do that? The music’s too loud, the drinks are overpriced, and the food is bland.”

  The joke lasting only a moment before her expression grows grim. “Be careful, nieta.”

  “Always,” I say, heading for the door, hoping she believes it.

  “Be smart as well. And never forget that to become powerful is to allow a great power to work through you. No one walks alone.”

  I meet her gaze and nod, then I make my way toward Lita’s waiting car.

  sixteen

  Daire

  “For a weeknight, it’s a lot busier than I would’ve expected,” I say, approaching the Rabbit Hole entrance alongside my friends. “Still, busy is good. The bigger the crowd, the harder it will be for Cade to spot me. If he’s here, that is.”

  Lita readjusts the strap of her purse and fluffs her hair so that it spills over her shoulders in long, shimmering waves. “It’s been packed like this every night.”

  “People in this town have short memories. The sky rains fire, chaos ensues, people disappear, and they still come back for more.” Xotichl weaves her cane so carelessly before her, I can’t help but wonder if some of the Lowerworld magick managed to stick, but I dismiss it just as quickly. Surely she’d tell us if it did.

  “Either that or their perception’s been altered.” Lita frowns. “Take it from someone who’s been there.” She stands before the bouncer, refusing his demand to check her ID. She places her hands on either side of his podium and leans perilously close to his face. “You’ve known me my whole life,” she says. “This is nothing more than a ridiculous charade, not to mention a huge waste of time. And don’t even think about marking me with your stupid, freaking stamp. Last thing I need is a red ink coyote emblazoned on my hand.” She draws away, shooting him a defiant glare as she folds her arms across her chest.

  “What’s with the attitude, Lita? You got a problem with Coyote?” He cocks his head to the side and studies her through narrowed eyes. His tone purposely sinister, meant to intimidate, he makes a show of flexing his oversized muscles, as he says, “Maybe it has something to do with the company you keep?” His gaze purposely switches to me. “Maybe you should go back to your old crowd?”

  “And maybe you should hear me when I say that I’m through with Coyote. Forever.” She turns on her heel and makes for the club’s entrance.

  “Famous last words.” He laughs. “Coyote is a hard habit to quit. Just ask Marliz.” His gaze slews toward me, ensuring I heard. “She’s back to waiting tables. I’m sure you’ll see her inside.”

  I keep my face neutral, refusing him the satisfaction of knowing he shocked me. Last I heard, Marliz was settled in L.A. after leaving her creepy, abusive fiancé, Cade’s cousin Gabe. Jennika got her a job, helped her find a place to live. I wonder if Jennika’s even aware that she left.

  His sinister laugh chases us all the way into the club where it’s soon replaced with blaring music coming from the band on stage.

  “Well that was…” Lita flattens her lips and narrows her eyes, searching for just the right word.

  “Weird. Strange. Bizarre. Ominous. Take your pick.” Xotichl sighs.

  “And can you believe Marliz is back? Do you think they altered her perception all the way from L.A.?”

  “Doubtful,” Xotichl says. “I don’t think it works long distance. Besides.” She turns to me. “Paloma and the elders have been working some kind of new protection spell in order to block it.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you,” Lita says. “But it’s not working. I mean, look at this place—more than half of Enchantment is here!”

  My gaze cuts through the crowd, desperately seeking the one person I’m most interested in seeing. “The magick only works for as long as people want to be protected,” I say. “When you live in a town like this, it’s easier not to see the truth.” I turn to my friends.

  “Well, that’s depressing.” Lita frowns.

  “And speaking of depressing…” Xotichl nods to the far side of the room where Lita’s former BFFs, Crickett and Jacy, are hanging on Phyre’s every word.

&
nbsp; “You can see that?” Lita asks, beating me to it.

  “I can sense it,” Xotichl says. But her lips tug at the side, leaving me to think, yet again, that she’s purposely hiding something.

  “Whatever.” Lita shrugs in dismissal. “It’s about time they found someone new to emulate. You have no idea what a relief it is to hang with people who don’t try to copy your every move. Not to mention how they were always stealing my style. At least you guys never do that.”

  “Yes, at least we have that in our favor.” Xotichl laughs.

  “Okay, so what’s the plan?” Lita eyeballs my overstuffed bag. “And just how long are you planning on being away? Your purse looks like it’s ready to burst.”

  “As long as it takes,” I say, addressing Xotichl when I ask, “Is Cade here? Can you sense his energy?”

  She lifts her chin, slowly scanning the room. “I can feel his presence. He’s definitely in the building, but not in this room. The energy’s dim.”

  “So he’s already out clubbing?” Lita scowls. “Figures. So much for mourning the loss of his twin.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disgust.

  “Listen.” I keep my voice low and lean close. “I was originally planning to hang for a bit before making my way to the vortex. But since I’m pretty sure the bouncer’s already alerted Cade that I’m here, there’s no point in pretending. I’m just gonna go for it, and hope for the best.”

  “And what about us? What should we do?” Lita looks at me, hoping for a juicy assignment.

  “Just be your usual charming self. Socialize, eavesdrop, observe. And if Cade approaches you, do not antagonize him.” I shoot her a serious look. “We’ll deal with him later, I promise. Same goes for Phyre, if you run into her, play nice. After what you told me about her father, I can’t help but think that the more we can learn about her, the better.”

  “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?” Lita cocks a meticulously groomed brow.

  “Something like that. But seriously, just keep your cool. I can’t be worried about you starting trouble when I need to focus on locating Dace.”