Echo (11 page)

But now, thanks to Cade stealing Paloma’s soul, and Daire’s inability to sacrifice her grandmother’s eternity for the greater good of all—they’ve found a way to breach the barrier. The story I was forced to cobble together from the scraps I managed to overhear—since everyone seems to think I need protecting, that I need to be shielded from the truth of my family.

Do they really think I’m so freaking pure I can’t handle my own reality?

And worse, do they truly believe I’m incapable of defending myself?

I grip the wheel tighter, glaring at the side of the building as I punch hard on the gas, forcing the pedal all the way to the floor. Wanting nothing more than to crash through that fake adobe exterior, smash that stupid sign to bits, along with all the Richters inside.

But at the very last moment, I swing a hard U and head away from downtown.

Making my way to the reservation, in search of answers that are long overdue.

fourteen

Daire

By the time we exit the liquor store with the cigarettes secured in my bag, Dace is gone. Hopefully headed back to school, having realized the huge risk he takes by following me.

Thinking of me.

Loving me.

I follow Chay into the bookstore, where he proceeds to meander the aisles, peering at the kind of titles I’m pretty sure he has no interest in. Loitering in a way that makes me wonder why he decided to bring me here in the first place.

When the redheaded woman working the register calls to some unseen person in back—saying something about heading over to Gifford’s to buy a roll of stamps—I can’t help but notice the way Chay perks up as she exits. Darting for the counter the second the door closes behind her, he approaches it with a purpose I can’t even fathom. Then smiles in greeting when a man with jet-black hair and eyes to match slips from behind the curtain, his gaze slanting toward me in question.

“Daire Santos.” Chay bends his head toward me.

“Lucio Whitefeather.” The man nods, gripping my hand in a nice, firm shake.

“Whitefeather?” I glance between him and Chay.

“Lucio is Leftfoot’s son,” Chay mumbles, as he guides me through the curtain, into a back room that, from the looks of it, seems to do triple duty as a storeroom, a break room, and a shipping center, judging by the number of large cardboard boxes strewn all about.

“Good timing,” Lucio says. “Just got some new arrivals.”

I watch as they hover over the box, cutting through thick bands of brown tape, only to reveal …
books
?

“I don’t get it.” I screw my mouth to the side. Try to make sense of it. “What’s with all the secrecy?”

Lucio looks between Chay and me, taking the lead when he says, “The Richters don’t just control the town—they control what’s sold in town.”

I gaze at the stacks of books with brightly colored covers—books about mastering one’s destiny, creating a better world from the inside out—a far cry from the kinds of books I’d expect.

“So, you’re saying that in addition to their long list of evil deeds—they’re now book banners too?”

“They’ve banned anything they consider too inspirational or too informational.” Lucio and Chay exchange a private look. “They don’t want the people empowered. That wouldn’t bode well for them.”

“So they censor?”

“Ever listen to Enchantment radio?” Lucio asks.

I shake my head. It never even occurred to me to do so. I’m pretty much married to my iPod.

“It’s filled with all the music and all the news
they
see fit to share. The town paper’s no better.”

“Okay, but still—why all the secrecy? Why not just order this stuff online and have all the self-help, inspirational books you desire delivered right to your door?”

“They run the local post office and the local Internet provider as well.”

My eyes grow wide.
Sheesh.
I knew this town was bad. I knew the Richters were evil. But I guess I never knew just how far it went. They’re complete and total fascists. One more reason to get myself to the Rabbit Hole and do what I came here to do.

“So, why do you stay?” I glance between them.

“Someone’s got to fight the good fight.” Chay grins, choosing a book from the stack and slipping it into my bag. Bidding a quick good-bye to Lucio and rushing me out the back door as soon as the redheaded salesclerk returns.

“So how about I take you home?” Chay broaches the question in a casual way, which stands in direct opposition to the probing look that he gives me.

“Home? Don’t you mean school?” I quirk a brow, looking at him when I add, “Actually, I thought I’d just hang in town for a while. Find a quiet place to read my new book.” I pat the side of my bag, though the look in his eye tells me he’s not buying my act.

“I wouldn’t recommend that. Best to keep that kind of thing to the privacy of your own home.”

“So, you’re saying our homes are private?”

A smile tugs at Chay’s lips. “Paloma’s is.”

“What’d you give me, anyway?” I ask, having barely had a chance to look at it before he shoved it deep into my bag.

“Book about manifesting and intent—nothing Paloma can’t teach you.”

I stare at him, feeling a little lost in his words.

He rubs his chin, casts a look around to ensure no one’s listening. “Daire, I wanted to show you what you’re up against. You’re grossly underestimating El Coyote if you think you can just barge in there and do what … what I think you’re planning to do. They’re far more powerful than you realize. That pack of cigarettes in your bag may get you past the demons that guard the vortex, but what are you going to do once you’re in? Do you even have a plan—or are you acting on an irrational blend of passion, anger, and adrenaline?” His gaze levels on me, waiting for me to respond, but when I don’t, he goes on to say, “If you head over there now—you’re only going to succeed in getting yourself killed.”

“Not true,” I say. “Cade won’t kill me—he needs me. He knows I can’t just will myself to stop loving Dace—it doesn’t work that way. So the longer he keeps me around, the stronger he gets. He’s the one who benefits.”

“Don’t think for a second he won’t kill you in order to save himself because I guarantee you he will. Your drive to slay him is only as good as the strength you have to back it with. And, Daire, you’re just not strong enough. I can’t let you do it. Not yet anyway. Besides, you don’t have to go this alone. You have plenty of resources in Paloma and me. Even in Leftfoot and Chepi and Lucio, who you just met. Let us help you. Let us show you how to do this the right way.”

I stand before him, weighing his words.

“C’mon.” He slides an arm around my shoulder and leads me down the street to his truck. “No shame in heeding an old man’s wisdom.”

fifteen

Dace

The last person I expect to see when I enter my mom’s house is Leftfoot. Yet, there he is, sitting at her kitchen table, hunched over a steaming mug of freshly brewed piñon coffee. Caught in midconversation when he says, “… simply vanished. But we know that’s not true.”

He shoots Chepi a meaningful look, as her face goes grim in a way I don’t often see. The two of them so lost in thought, it’s a moment before they notice me.

“Dace!” My mother leaps to her feet, her expression arranging to one I can’t read. Is it
guilt—surprise—reproach
? Before I can decide, she’s rushing toward me, folding me into her arms and brushing a hand over my hair.

I return the hug. Clutch her tightly to me, then gently pry myself free. My gaze darting between them, I say, “I need answers.”

“Why aren’t you at school?” Chepi’s large brown eyes narrow on mine. Attempting to deflect a conversation she’d prefer not to have. “Winter Break starts next week.”

“Mother, please.” My voice is as strained as the expression I wear on my face as I claim the empty chair between them, unwilling to play this particular game. “It’s time you leveled with me and told me the truth.”

Leftfoot mumbles something about needing to leave. But before he can get very far, I say, “As it happens, I need you here too.”

He locks eyes with me and returns to his seat. Directing his words to my mother, he says, “Chepi, it’s time. You can’t avoid this day forever.”

Chepi kneads the table with hands calloused from years of jewelry making—the turquoise and silver pieces once coveted by galleries and tourists alike. But over the last decade, the galleries have all closed, and Enchantment has fallen way off the tourist path. Forcing her to make frequent trips to Santa Fe, where she hawks her wares in the plaza, trying to keep us afloat.

“I know what happened to you on the Day of the Dead,” I begin, hoping to spare her from reliving that hell. “I know what Leandro did. I know what I am, what Cade is, and how we were made. I know you were not at all responsible for what happened to you. I know how hard it must’ve been for you to look at me for the last sixteen years—”

“No!” Her hand finds mine, squeezing with surprising force when she says, “Don’t you believe it—it’s not at all true!”

I free myself from her grip, rock my chair back until it’s balanced on two legs. An act that always resulted in a disapproving look followed by a verbal reprimand when I was a child but goes unnoticed today.

“You are my son. I have never once regretted bearing you. You were destined to come to me.” Her fingers twist nervously.

Destined. Yes.
I study my hands, deciding what to say next.

My thoughts interrupted by Leftfoot saying, “Dace, I’m sorry. There were many times I wanted to tell you, but—”

“But I wouldn’t permit it,” Chepi breaks in. “I thought that by ignoring it, I could avoid it. Stupid, I know.” She shakes her head. “But when I saw you with the girl—”

“Daire. The girl’s name is Daire.” My gut twists in anguish when a vision of her blooms in my head.

“Yes.” Chepi nods. “When I saw you with her, I knew it wouldn’t be long before the truth was revealed. Still, even then, there never seemed a good time to tell you. Though please know that I never set out to lie to you or deceive you. I only wanted to protect you from the kind of regretful thoughts you’re now having.”

My gaze meets my mother’s, and just like
that
, all the anger I’d cultivated during the course of a long torturous night dissolves as though it never existed. She’s suffered more than any person rightfully should. There’s no reason to rebuke her for hoarding her secrets. No reason to drag her any deeper into this than I already have.

Though when I try to tell her as much, insisting Leftfoot and I can take it from here, a long dormant strength rises to the surface. “You deserve an explanation,” Chepi says. “You deserve to know the truth.”

I steal a moment to steady myself. Despite barging in and insisting on this, I need time to prepare.

She stares at the opposite wall as though the memory is imprinted upon it. Her shoulders sinking, posture softening, as the corner of her lip lifts ever so slightly—in such contrast to the hardened jaw and clenched fists I would’ve expected.

“I was so very young then.” Her voice lilts with fondness as a rueful smile lifts her cheeks, recalling an irretrievable version of herself. “Jolon—my father, your grandfather—fussed over me, coddled me, and protected me in ways I didn’t even realize until he was gone.”

“He spoiled you rotten,” Leftfoot pipes in, inserting a welcome moment of levity into a story soon to grow dark.

Their eyes meet as though balancing the memory between them. The moment broken when Chepi tugs on her sleeves and returns to me. “I’d just turned sixteen. Though by today’s standards, I was a very young and innocent sixteen. Believe me when I say I didn’t possess even a trace of the worldliness of your generation. While I used to blame my naivete for what happened to me—Leftfoot was finally able to convince me it didn’t matter either way. I was no match for Leandro. He was determined. I was his pawn. It’s as simple as that.”

My gaze drifts to Leftfoot, and I’m once again reminded of his selflessness—how quickly he stepped in to fill the fatherless void in our lives.

“There was a lot of excitement that day,” she continues. “The entire reservation was abuzz with activity. But I was especially excited because Jolon had promised to take me to the Lowerworld so I could meet my spirit animal.” Her eyes glitter with memory. “Although I’d always known I was guided by Hummingbird, I’d never made the journey to meet him face-to-face. I was so excited—I felt so grown-up, like I’d finally arrived as a full-fledged initiate. I’d always been fascinated by the mystical arts—I’d apprenticed with Jolon since I was a very young girl. But once I’d turned sixteen he agreed to step up my training. He was convinced I carried his gift. It was assumed I’d take over one day…”

She falls quiet, the tips of her fingers reading the table’s wood grain, readying herself for whatever comes next. The sight of her prompting me to reach for her hand and cover it with my own, hoping it would provide the needed strength to continue.

“We’d planned to get an early start, but as was often the case with Jolon, we were soon delayed when a neighbor fell ill and needed his attention. Normally, I would’ve gone along to assist, but I was too excited, my energy too scattered to be of any use. So I hopped on my horse, an old mare named Lucky I was fiercely devoted to, and set out for the grove of twisted juniper trees, planning to wait for him there. On the way, I ran into Daniel—a shaggy-haired, brown-eyed boy I’d harbored a secret crush on. Or at least I’d thought it was secret; apparently I hadn’t hidden it well.” Her eyes flash, her face grows resigned, and she heaves a weary sigh. “At any rate, Daniel offered to join me, but first he had something exciting he wanted me to see. It wouldn’t take long, he claimed, promising I’d be back at the vortex before Jolon ever guessed I’d been gone. He was so persuasive and I was so willing, that’s all it took for me to agree. It was only later, when I found myself bound and gagged, that he revealed his true face. Turns out it wasn’t Daniel I’d followed—it was Leandro Richter. He’d tricked me. Manipulated me by altering my perception and showing me what I most wanted to see. He held me captive for hours—aided by bleak and shadowy figures he conjured from the ether. Together they worked terrible black magick rituals that left me battered, beaten, and drifting in and out of consciousness. Until morning’s first light when he tossed my unconscious body over Lucky’s back and sent me home for Jolon to find me. A few hours later, Jolon was dead.”