Horizon

  I frown, unsure how to tell her how untethered I feel. That my newly restored vision seems to be the only tangible thing I can count on. So I just end up blurting the truth. “I can’t really read energy in the way that I used to.”

  She looks at me. Doing her best to hide her alarm. “You’re probably still getting used to your sight though, right? You know, like you’re learning to see through your eyes instead of your blind sight. I’m sure it’ll come back.”

  “But what if it doesn’t?” I clench my hands in my lap. There. I said it. Revealed my very worst fear that all the progress I made with the help of Paloma’s tutelage has taken a permanent sabbatical.

  “It will.” She nods as though it’s already been decided, but I’m not so sure.

  I used to know when someone was lying purely by the color of their words.

  I used to know when dark energies were lurking by the subtle shift in the atmosphere.

  But now, it seems I’m as clueless as everyone.

  Questioning my instincts.

  Second-guessing my gut.

  “I don’t know . . . I guess I just—” I start to say I have a bad feeling about all of this, but the truth is, I don’t feel much of anything. There’s a big empty void in the place where my intuition once lived. “The truth is, I really, truly don’t know,” I finally say, not wanting to lie. “But it just feels . . . wrong. Following Cade—going to the masquerade ball—none of it sits well inside.”

  I swivel toward Lita, only to find she’s already moved on. Already returned her focus to chasing Cade’s truck.

  I fold my hands in my lap and try to keep calm. Try to find the place of quiet stillness like Paloma once taught me.

  She always said the silence is where my strength lies. That when I find myself anxious, uncertain, or feeling unsettled, I should allow my breath to slow and my thoughts to quiet, so a space can open up for the answers to be revealed. And though it’s never failed me in the past, there’s no denying it’s failing me now.

  The silence bears the opposite effect. Leaving me so jumbled and edgy, I turn to the window and press my fingertips hard to the glass in an attempt to steady myself.

  Normally I’d be able to read the energy emitted by every run-down adobe we pass, but not anymore.

  Still, I grit my teeth and try again, refusing to give up so easily.

  Only to shoot toward the dashboard when Lita slams the brakes hard, and says, “This is the last thing I expected to see.”

  SEVENTEEN

  DACE

  Cade stops his truck in the middle of the street and lowers the driver’s side window to better see me. “When I got your text I was sure it was a joke.” He keeps one hand on the wheel, the engine idling.

  “Not a joke, I assure you.” I lean against the door of the primer-grey, classic Mustang I’ve been slowly restoring. Arms loose by my sides, legs casually crossed at the ankles, in an attempt to appear open, easygoing, and harmless. In other words, the opposite of what I’m becoming.

  “Well, that’s your fail.” He peers at me through a pair of dark sunglasses. Clueless to the fact that despite the tinted lenses, I can still see his eyes. I can see everything. He’s part of me, just as I’m part of him. “So, get to it already. What do you want? I’m busy.” He lifts his chin, checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. His usual smug, self-satisfied look deepening when he sees Lita parked a few feet away.

  He thinks this scene is his to control.

  Thinks he’s the one who led them here so he could publicly out me as some sort of traitor.

  Little does he know I planned the whole thing.

  This is no courtesy call.

  He has no idea just how big of a traitor I’ll turn out to be.

  In the end, the beast may consume me, but not before I’ve defeated every last one of them.

  “We need to talk.” I push away from my car and crick my neck toward the large adobe estate nestled behind the large wrought-iron gates.

  “You? In my house?” He works his tongue against the side of his cheek and hocks a wad of spit that lands just shy of my shoe. A feeble attempt to intimidate I choose to ignore. “Hate to break it to you, bro, but this is the closest you’ll get. You’re not fit to enter. You’re not one of us. Never will be.”

  “You sure about that?” I push my sunglasses high on my forehead and return his look with red glowing eyes.

  He laughs. Does his best to appear jaded and unimpressed. But I can see beyond the façade and he’s even more shaken than I originally bargained for.

  “That it? That all you got?” He shakes his head, swipes a hand through his hair. “Maybe you should do that again so Xotichl and Lita can see. Unlike me, they tend to scare easily.”

  He jabs a thumb toward the girls, but I refuse to look. The mere sight of them is enough to conjure a thousand memories of Daire, and I can’t afford to be distracted by thoughts of a girl I can no longer have.

  He places his other hand on the wheel, shifts into drive, but I can’t let him go, not until I get what I came for.

  I step forward, moving to stop him as he cranks the wheel hard and noses the truck toward the gate. Sparing me a dismissive glance, he says, “It’s like I already said, you can’t come in. You can’t ever come in. If you were smart, which clearly you aren’t, but if you were, you would’ve known that. You wouldn’t have wasted your time coming here.”

  The gates swing open as Cade eases onto the drive, but I won’t be daunted. I will chase him to the front door if that’s what it takes.

  “I want my job back.” I move alongside him.

  He brakes, peering at me with a sardonic grin that widens his cheeks. “Not a chance.”

  “Fine.” I shrug, as though it’s no big deal either way. It isn’t. I have every intention of getting my way. “Just thought I’d appeal to you first, since I heard you were promoted to manager. But, I guess I’ll go straight to Leandro instead.”

  “Feel free.” Cade laughs, starts to raise the window between us.

  “Leandro won’t hesitate to reinstate me. Hell, he begged me to come back last time I spoke with him on New Year’s Eve. Might make you look even worse in his eyes when I tell him you rejected me. Surely he realizes it’s mostly your fault the Rabbit Hole blew. Phyre was just a normal girl, with no real powers to speak of, and still you couldn’t stop her from endangering your entire family. Just like you can’t seem to stop Daire from thwarting your every move.”

  His features sharpen, his eyes darken, but he makes no further attempt to drive on.

  “Something to think about.” I bump the driver’s side door and I start to turn away. Acting as though it’s an afterthought when I turn back to say, “Oh, and by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, you owe me your life.”

  “Is that what you think?” He leans out the driver’s side window and frowns.

  “That’s what I know, and you know it too.”

  “You saved me to save yourself.” He narrows his gaze, tries to look menacing, but comes nowhere close to succeeding.

  “Did I look like I needed saving?”

  He looks me over. Works his jaw. The seconds tick past.

  “Face it, Cade, you’re not what you used to be. Hell, you can’t even shift into your pathetic snake-tongued beast. You’re no threat to me.”

  “What’re you after?” His voice is gruff, his features sharpen again, but it’s the most he’s capable of and I can’t help but snicker in the face of it.

  “Ultimately—I’m after what’s rightfully mine. The house, the town, all of it—my legacy as Leandro’s son. But for now, I’ll start with my job. Tell Leandro you had to convince me if you want. Tell him it’s your way to keep an eye on me. I don’t care how you sell it, just sell it. Though you might have trouble convincing him of anything. I think we all know he’s beginning to doubt you. You two are on shaky ground, so here’s your chance to prove that you can handle the role of both manager and next in line for Leandro’s throne.”


  “And Daire?”

  I narrow my gaze. Not liking the sound of her name on his lips. Especially the way that he said it, with an unmistakable twinge of longing in his tone.

  “What about her?” I hold myself still, aware of the beast beginning to rumble and stir, and it takes all of my will to contain it. Won’t be long until he makes himself known. But now is not the time. Not even close.

  “Does the Seeker know you’re here?” He cocks his head, shoots me a look of contempt.

  “You think I have to ask permission to visit my ancestral home?” He glares in response, and I take it as my cue to exit. “Tell Leandro I’ll report for work first thing tomorrow.”

  “Never gonna happen,” he calls but I choose to ignore him. I just head for my car and give a quick wave to Lita and Xotichl, hoping they’ll do their parts and report back to Daire.

  Tell her I was here—that it’s too late to stop me from meeting my destiny.

  That I’ve already joined the other side and it’s in her best interests to stay far away.

  Hoping they’ll succeed where I failed by convincing her to save herself, save them, and forget about me.

  Then, without another look, I climb inside, gun the engine, and drive away.

  EIGHTEEN

  DAIRE

  With my last client gone, I head into the den, surprised to find Chay sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper and waiting for me.

  “How long have you been here?” I stand before the whirring fan blades and twist the ends of my ponytail into a bun I prop high on my head, enjoying the cool breeze on my neck.

  “Long enough to feed Kachina, muck out her stall, and nearly finish this paper as a steady stream of clients paraded in and out.” He motions toward a glass of iced ginger tea he has waiting for me. “Ice is probably melted by now.”

  I push away from the fan and move toward it, savoring the stream of cool liquid easing down my throat.

  “How you holding up?” He folds his newspaper in half and tosses it onto the table to better focus on me, as I claim the opposite chair and take another sip of my tea.

  Though the question is posed innocently enough, the part he failed to voice looms large between us.

  How am I holding up now that I’m all on my own without Paloma to guide me?

  It’s what they’re all wondering.

  While my friends have provided much-needed comfort and support, sometimes I feel like Chay is the only one who truly understands how empty life feels now that she’s gone.

  Paloma was his companion, his lover, his closest confidant, and best friend. There’s no doubt he misses her as much as I do.

  I slip off a blue rubber flip-flop and prop a bare foot on the table. “Honestly?” My eyes meet his, finally able to admit to the truth I’ve kept buried inside for too long. “Between the gardening, the clients, and looking after me, I don’t know how she managed to keep up with it all, and make it look so darn effortless. I always feel two steps behind . . .” I sigh, gaze down at my hands. “She’s a hard act to follow.”

  “But that’s just it. You’re not expected to follow.”

  “Aren’t I?” I lift my gaze to his. “I’m the Seeker. I have a destiny—and a long list of duties to go along with it.”

  Chay’s expression softens as he fingers the silver wolf’s head he wears at his wrist. “

  No two Seekers are created the same. And, for what it’s worth, Paloma was once in your shoes. Struggling to find her way after her own mother passed on.”

  I sit up a bit higher. Eager to know more about the story Paloma never shared. “I know so little about it. She rarely talked about those days.”

  “Paloma didn’t like to dwell in the past.” His focus shifts from the wolf to the intricate silver eagle’s head ring on his finger.

  I nod, knowing I probably shouldn’t dwell either. But now that he’s mentioned it, I can’t resist asking, “What was she like back in the day? How did you meet?”

  His lips curl ever so slightly, as he tilts his head back and allows his mind to drift to the past. For a brief moment, I can imagine how he might’ve looked then. Tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome pretty much describes it.

  “I feel like I’ve always known Paloma.” His voice is soft, as though savoring the memory. “She was a lot like you, actually. Beautiful. Strong. Capable. And woefully unsure of herself.” He cracks a smile, returns his gaze to mine. “But later, after she lost Alejandro and discovered she was pregnant with Django, the deeply rooted strength inherent in all Seekers began to shine through.”

  “Is that when you fell in love with her?”

  His gaze grows distant. “I fell in love with her long before that.”

  “Did she know? Did you tell her?”

  He grins in a way that creases his cheeks and causes a riot of wrinkles to fan around his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure she knew. It’s not like I was capable of playing it cool. Though I was just one of many. Most of us had a thing for Paloma back then. But I finished school early and went off to college, and while I was away she fell in love with Alejandro. So I resigned myself to being happy that she’d found someone worthy.”

  I sit with that for a while, wondering if I could do the same for Dace. Be happy for him if he found someone else, someone worthy. While I’d like to think that I could, I’m pretty sure I’m just deluding myself. Seeing him happy with another girl would be a terrible burden I’m not sure I could bear.

  “For those who are patient, life has a way of working out.” I meet his gaze, realizing too late he’d been observing my reverie. “Paloma and I shared many good years. I prefer to concentrate on the time spent together, rather than the time spent apart.”

  “You said Paloma was unsure like me, but it’s hard to imagine her ever feeling that way. When did she make the switch? What was the one thing that instigated it?”

  The question brings another smile to his face, though I can’t fathom why. “While I can’t pinpoint that in the way you’d like, I can say that confidence is usually the reward for taking the risk of being yourself.”

  I drum my fingers against the armrests and take a moment to digest that.

  Is it possible I’ve been so focused on being just like Paloma I lost sight of myself?

  “No two people are alike—just as no two Seekers are alike. Paloma concentrated on her strengths and didn’t punish herself for her weaknesses.”

  “So you’re saying I should follow that example?”

  “There are worse examples.”

  “But what if I don’t know what my strengths are? What if I feel so overwhelmed by trying to keep up with everything that—” I stop myself before I can dissolve into a full-blown whine. Switching tacks, I say, “I guess what I need is a cheat sheet.”

  Chay throws his head back and laughs—a deep-bellied sound I’m glad to know he’s still capable of.

  “You don’t need a cheat sheet.” He rises from the couch, motions for me to follow his lead. “Though I’m betting you’re in need of some dinner.”

  Chay takes me to a restaurant just outside of town where he seems to know everyone.

  “This is like dining with a celebrity,” I say, after the waitress has fawned over him and taken our orders. “And I should know, having dined with a few.”

  “As the only veterinarian within a fifty-mile radius, you tend to meet a few people.” He spreads his paper napkin across his lap and I do the same. And a few moments later, when the waitress returns with two salads, I can’t help but grin.

  “Since when is that your usual?” I stab a fork into a bed of dark, leafy greens. “You on a diet?”

  “Never.” He lifts his fork to his mouth. “Just making more conscious choices, I guess. Looks like Paloma’s lectures managed to stick.”

  We dig into our meals. The two of us happy to eat in a contented, comfortable silence, until Chay lowers his fork, dabs his mouth with his napkin, and says, “When was the last time you saw Dace?”

  I push away
from my plate and lean against the vinyl banquette. “Yesterday when he stopped by to say goodbye. I guess you know why.”

  He spins the eagle ring around and around on his finger. His mouth downturned, gaze somber. “I’m sorry.”

  I lift my shoulders in response, try to put on a brave face.

  Eating with Chay in the out-of-the-way diner reminds me of the first day we met under similar circumstances. I was scared and uncertain, facing a future I couldn’t even fathom. And he was the wise counsel whose presence alone was enough to instill me with much-needed comfort. After all that we’ve been through, it’s nice to know that feeling still holds.

  He studies me closely, trying to determine the difference between the truth of my feelings and the fiction of my actions. “You’re taking this well.”

  “As well as I can.” My reply purposely vague. After seeing my friends’ reactions over my reluctance to steer clear of Dace, I’m a little nervous about approaching Chay.

  He lowers his gaze, pulls his wallet from his pocket, and I realize I’m not ready to leave it this way.